The moon cast its shiny light over the wander, its body sparkling as if just recently polished. Its occupants had long since turned in, but a very much awake Artie plopped onto his bed, guitar and recorder in hand. I hope Jim won't mind my little one-man concert.

He gave the strings a few tugs and twangs, looking for the perfect melody. He began humming to the music and adding words. Soon, he was screaming shrill, high-pitched noises into the night.

"EEEE YA YA YA YA, DO-LA, YA YA YA YA YA YAAAAY-YA!" he half-sang, half-screamed, tugging the strings of the instrument mercilessly. "EEEE YA YA YA YAAAAAA!"

On the other side of the railroad car, Jim bolted upright, not happy that his sleep was disturbed. Turning over, he placed the pillow over his head, and hoped that whoever it was would shut up. But the noise was still there after 15 minutes had gone by. Jim finally decided that he was going to get up and demand an explanation. Throwing a dusty brown robe over his maroon striped pajamas, he made his way to where he'd heard the noise—Artie's room.

Jim swung the door open to see Artie sitting on the bed in his royal blue striped pajamas, swiftly strumming his guitar and singing loudly. Jim cleared his throat.

Artie immediately stopped, glancing up and Jim, the last note a twang! from his instrument. "Oh, uh, good evening, James."

Jim folded his arms. "It's 4:00 in the morning, Artie." he frowned, eying the equipment. "What's all this for?"

"I'm recording." Artie replied bluntly.

"For what?"

Artie shrugged. "I don't even know yet, but I have a feeling it will come in handy."

Jim sighed, "Can it please wait until daylight? I've got a meeting with Dr. Crane."

"Sorry Jim," Artie replied, "But nighttime's the only time I've got where it's quiet. I can't have people talking in the background when the music is playing."

"How long is this going to take?" moaned Jim.

Artie shrugged. "An hour, maybe?"

Exasperated, Jim put his head in his heads. "Nevermind," he said, turning around. "I'll go ahead and see if Dr. Crane's home."

"Good luck, James." Artie called after him. "I'll have this finished before you're back."

"You'd better," Jim muttered grumpily as he browsed through his wardrobe. He dressed in a flash and was soon gone, eager to escape the dreadful noise.

Artie shrugged and resumed playing. "OH LA LA LA LAYEEEE, OH LALA LAYEEEEE!"

TWANG!