Funny Short Stories
The Nerdy Gurdy Man - part 2
'Evening Stanley,' said Fidget, as Stanley opened the door.
'Eyup, Fidget,' Stanley replied. 'What's up?'
They were an unlikely pair, viewed from a purely physical perspective. Fidget was small and wiry. Virtually see-through when his neighbour went away and he neglected such trivial affairs as cooking. He always managed to shave, after a fashion, and the bits he missed were inconspicuous on account of being as white as his skin.
Stanley was fairly tall, very wide, jovial (except when perched in front of his computer terminals (note the plural)), had a large bushy black beard and could have enrolled for the seven dwarves if only there'd been eight and they weren't dwarves. Stanley seemed to have two modes - very serious and troubled when any aspect of his computers (note the plural) was misbehaving, and very happy once they were fixed.
On those occasions that the computers (note the plural) wouldn't fix, he resorted to his only other hobby as a distraction - folk music.
Fidget had heard about Stanley's folk music interest, but had never witnessed it at first hand. Stanley didn't join the locals at QT's pub in Smogdale, or at the session in Kidneyswamp, but travelled all the way to the City of Wherewithal, about twenty miles away.
♠
Stanley reversed into his bed-sit so that Fidget could enter. This was made more difficult than one may imagine, as Stanley was too wide to turn around without either accidentally fetching one of the framed photos off the wall or falling over his huge unravelling slippers.
'What's up is this,' Fidget replied after Stanley had launched himself into his long-suffering armchair. 'My neighbour thinks I spend too much time in the lab/workshop. She's got a point, I suppose. I was wondering about trying folk music as new hobby. Is it easy to get started? Do you have to be expert to be let in?'
'To get in?' said Stanley. 'To get in you need to be able to walk, stagger or crawl through the doorway. That's all.'
'And they serve food?'
'They do. I didn't know you were that interested.'
'Grand! I wonder what I should play?'
'Just come along and see. In the meantime there's a good online forum that I frequent for exchanging musical ideas. Let's take a look.'
All available surfaces were covered with PCs (in the broadest sense of the term) and Stanley pondered for a while before deciding which to use.
The forum featured articles and photos of musicians, instruments, lyrics, sheet music and, of course, argument. In no time at all Fidget was convinced he'd give it a try.
'I'd better take a trip,' he said. 'I could use my truck!'
So he did!
'Any chance of a lift?' asked Stanley. And there was.
♥ ℑ ♥
Fidget rang the bell and heard Stanley fussing and cursing as he came to the door.
'Am I too early?' asked Fidget. Stanley seemed short on luggage, particularly cases.
'Nope, I'm ready.' Stanley noticed Fidget's puzzled look and pulled two tin whistles from the inner pocket of his jacket. They looked well used - worn and corroded even.
'Good lord,' said Fidget. 'I thought you'd play the tuba or something.'
'Hmm,' said Stanley, which struck Fidget as something of a record in non-committalness.
'A most impressive truck,' Stanley added, after waddling onto the street. 'I never thought you'd become interested in vehicles, what with your electronic expertise and environmental friendliness.'
'Well, it was one of Eve's brainwaves and it was for an environmental project, if you recall.'
'Eve being your neighbour?'
'That's the one.'
Stanley was able to give directions after the dual carriageway monotony to the outskirts of Wherewithal, and soon Fidget had parked near a public house on the verge of Wherewithal's docklands.
Inside, Fidget was surprised to see Rupert Jefferson from Grockel's Bay with a hurdy gurdy.
'This is inspired!' said Fidget. 'Someone has invented an instrument where one hand is totally busy not playing any notes!'
Rupert's left hand was turning a handle on the device, occasionally speeding up to modify the music. In orchestral circles it would possibly have been described as eliciting a different 'colour' from the instrument, since the pitch and volume weren't the target of Rupert's endeavours. The volume was more or less constant, and his other hand selected the pitch by pressing different keys.
Fidget felt unable to use the word 'colour' in this context, and struggled to keep associations from ill-tempered goats out of his mind. His neighbour, Eve, always looked so upset if he let his vivid imagination 'colour' his speech.
Stanley thrust a pint of devilishly dark brew with a white froth on top into Fidget's hand. Fidget thrust some of the liquid down his neck and relaxed somewhat.
'Sounds like a goat,' he observed.
'Some folk get a better sound than Rupert,' Stanley replied.
Rupert fairly grimaced as he used one hand for this, t'other for that, and his knees to prevent the device from escaping. The bystanders and bysitters grimaced in solidarity.
Fidget gazed admiringly at his pint - devilishly dark with a white froth on top - and was suddenly inspired. This could be a metaphor for the human condition! This could be the theme of his first folk song!
He had another sip.
'I could write it down, quickly, before I forget,' he murmured.
'Hmm?' said Stanley.
'Do you have a pen about your person?' he enquired, the alcohol already embellishing his speech.
Stanley produced one, and a filobeermatofax.
Fidget took another sip.
'What's the pen for?' asked Stanley.
'Dunno,' said Fidget. 'A device like that could be improved,' he added.
'It certainly could,' agreed Stanley. (He could fit a bloody silencer for a start, he thought).