Well you are the spelling whiz lady Blueberry. Gosh, Blueberry, too bad I didn't come up with that first. Keep reading my Lady, a drum set will be coming down on you shortly so there (stick out tongue).
Thank you so much all my other reviewers. I had almost no hope in anyone ever, ever reading my story (except Blueberry) so it really means a lot to me to know that you at least had a peek at this. Keep reading. You may not find this chapter as good, be honest please. Major writer's cramp.
It was a cold and windy night. Ariel had already eaten her breakfast, second breakfast, elevenesis, luncheon, after noon tea, supper and dinner. She was now feeling rather full and content with herself.
"Well now what must I do with myself," she pondered seeing that she was no longer hungry or at least not that hungry any more. She was known to be a bottomless pit at times. Trisana had not woken up and Ariel wondered if she really was all right. From her sources, she was able to conclude that her friend had suffered a minor head injury when a snare drum was dropped on her head along with two drumsticks.
"I wonder why her symbols did not fall on her instead of her snare drum?" asked Ariel to herself, "she always seemed to like them better in the first place." Ariel started to imagine what it would have been like to see her friend's symbols crash down onto her friend's head. Then she realized this was a crude thought to think about. Even despite her love to here symbols dropping from the sky. She did not really fancy the thought of it landing on her friends head no matter how hard it may have been or was.
She went to her room to brood some more and do nothing (which she was quite good at). She had stopped asking why she was where she was after a time. It only hurt her poor little head. She walked into her plain little room of white and lay down upon her drab little bed for the forth time that day. She would mainly be in bed when she was not cramming her face with food. Her sedentary life seemed like nothing compared to this one. She could finally fantasize about absolutely nothing as oppose to nothing in particular. After about five minutes or so, she tired of this activity.
"Too strenuous. Too much to concentrate on. Nothing indeed. Yes, indeed for my taste," she murmured to herself making no sense to anyone or anything. To sleep would have been even more of an effort. You may notice sometimes or almost all the time (not to be rude) that Ariel was/is never *there* and always in her own pitiful state of well… nothingness.
But enough with her thoughts. While Ariel was in her delirious state of no mind she did not heed the little black case on the little white nightstand. This was, of course, until she tripped over it while pacing back and forth with no train of thought.
"Wholly Guacamole!" she cried out in distraught and suddenly in despair when noticing the object she tripped over.
She picked it up and when she did, it felt hot and heavy as though made of lead.
"Dumb A** clarinet!" she muttered and mumbled and began to ramble on to herself. Ariel was one of those fine people who would constantly run into walls and then cursed at them. Queer yes and maybe even totally insane when she would claim the wall had jumped in her way. Therefore, she was quite accustomed to tripping over objects (or stuff in general) that had just appeared in her path.
Suddenly she felt drawn to her clarinet that lay in her clarinet case. Even stranger when she actually considered to practice her music. Her hands slid down the case and back up, stroking the exterior while her brain when numb. Her hands slid down the case and back up in an almost passionate affectation. To love such a loathsome piece of wood! How she would long to play such a thing. To feel her lips touch that abhorrent reed tasting foul and unpleasant. There truly was not way to describe the taste of a new reed when put in ones mouth; only that it is not to one's liking. She looked at the diminutive medal clasps on their little medal hinges yearning to give way. They would give if she asked, if she wanted them to. She did.
And as soon as this slow reasoning alluded to her mind, the clasps broke free. Something that had forced the hinges closed had given up and succumbed. Now lay the clarinet in its case, unhindered and untouched since the fall upon Middle-earth (or more precisely, Ariel's skull). It was black with the sign 'bundy' in golden letter wreathed about the barrel and bell.
Trembling ever so slightly, her knobby hands now pieced together the clarinet. She put her mouth on the clarinet and tongued the reed. A strong but stagnant sound issued from the instrument. All of the sudden she jumped into a song. Out flowed the melody and form that she had carefully aimed for when practicing in the past. It came naturally to her now, too naturally. The song went on—
'When I get older loosing my hair, many years from now, du da du da dumm…'
SQUIGGLE, puff! She squeaked loudly. Something had broken in this natural rhythm and she came back to her reality.
"What the hel*," she said after she came out of her trance. There, in the room stood someone. Her. But not her. It was a dwarf.
"Wholly Guacamole!"
Yes. I still don't know where I am going. I think I have a general idea. If no one reviews I'm not gonna write any. Well, I probably will because blueberry will make me but that's beside the point. Please review, review, and review some more. By the way, that song was by the Beatles' "When I'm sixty-four" and yes I can play it on clarinet.