Ghost Tunes
Ghost Tunes
The Bloody Keys
December 15, 2021
Wiggle Room
It is the last piano lesson Wiggles will take this year. Maybe the last one ever.
He has to work next week, and then the piano store will be closed on December 29, so the next time he’ll sit down with his music teacher it will be the year 2022 and he hopes that will finally be the year he becomes a great pianist. A non-terrible pianist. He hopes he stops crapping his pants when he plays the piano.
Wiggles is the world’s worst piano player and his teacher, Mrs. Shirley Basketball, knows this and is frustrated that she cannot reach him. She has thought many, many times of dismissing him as a student. “Let’s face it, Wiggles, you just suck,” she imagines herself saying to him. But that would be an awful thing to do.
And Wiggles, despite being a talentless jackass, does pay for his lessons on time. And usually three months in advance. So Mrs. Shirley Basketball keeps him on.
During the last lesson of the year Wiggles struggles to play “The Little Drummer Boy,” “Fur Elise,” “Christmastime is Here,” and even somehow struggles to keep his shoes on as they often fall off when he plays. He’s so dumb.
“Well, Wiggles” Mrs. Shirley Basketball says. “You are magnificent!”
“Really?” Wiggles squeals with delight. “Do you mean it?”
Mrs. Shirley Basketball slaps him across the face.
“Hell yes, I mean it!” Shirley gets up and locks the door then sits back down at the piano next to Wiggles who is rubbing his cheek where she smacked him as he tries to hold back the tears. “Now play again, Wiggles,” she says to him. “Keep playing until you make Christmas sound right, you asshole!”
She kisses him on the cheek and Wiggles plays. He plays for hours. It begins to snow and Mrs. Shirley Basketball encourages him, curses him, berates him, applauds him. He plays until his fingers bleed and there’s a foot of snow outside and the sun has fallen.
“How was that?” The bloody-fingered Wiggles asks. “How was that?”
“Merry Christmas, Wiggles” she says. “Merry Christmas.”
They hug and Wiggles steps out into the cold and uses some of the freshly-fallen snow to soothe his bloody wounds. He leaves a trail of crimson snow as he limps back to the car and starts it up. The radio is playing a Christmas song.
“Next year is mine,” Wiggles sighs. “Next year is mine.” --TK
Wednesday, December 15, 2021