Like Claws on a Chalkboard

Drechser opened his mouth in protest.

“--and we have no need of a triangle player right now.” Hamish, a Kyrii with a perfectly coiffed tuft of red hair and a fitted sparkling blue suit sighed in frustration. “I’m sorry Drechser, I know you want to be a part of the Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee Jiggy Jamboree for the Jolly Jubilation of Juliana Jetsam,” he stopped to take a deep breath. “But you’re, well, you just aren’t good enough.”

The Halloween Kougra tucked back his wings and frowned. “I can practice Hamish, there’s still two weeks! I know I can get better at playing the guitar before the Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee-”

Before he could continue any further, Hamish shook his head and attempted to move the Kougra out of his music shop. For three years now, Drechser came every week for music lessons from Hamish. And for three years, every week Drechser somehow managed to get worse. He started learning the trumpet and nearly ruptured poor Hamish’s eardrums so they moved onwards to the piano. From there, he tried the harmonica, the violin, the four string fiddle, the drums, the flute, the harp, the mandolin, the xylophone, guitar, and yes, even the kazoo. Somehow, Drechser was awful at all of them.

Unfortunately for the eager Kougra, the Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee Jiggy Jamboree for the Jolly Jubilation of Juliana Jetsam was nearing to celebrate a royal Jetsam’s longevity and Hamish was in charge of assembling the band. It was difficult to break the news to his student, but unless everyone in attendance was prepared to nurse a headache, then Drechser certainly was not going to play.

“I truly am sorry,” Hamish said, leading Drechser out the door. He ignored a small crowd of onlookers the best he could, for Drechser’s pout was turning heads. “Maybe next time?”

Hamish closed the shop door (and if Drechser’s ear were to be trusted, he also locked it). Dejectedly, he walked across the Plaza to the one place that could comfort his wounds: Pizzaroo.

Several slices of asparagus and yogurt pizza may not solve any problems, but it sure does make them better to accept. Drechser sat inside his favorite parlor, sipped lemonade and nibbled on the crusts of a heartily enjoyed pizza pie. He had two weeks until the Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee Jiggy Jamboree for the Jolly Jubilation of Juliana Jetsam. That was plenty of time, right? Perhaps, perhaps, he could find the perfect instrument between now and then.

After leaving a tip, Drechser bounded home, his wings flapping with determination. One thing was certain, his years of practicing endlessly meant that at home he had nearly as much stock as Hamish’s store did. The day was young, the sun hung lazily in the sky, and he was prepared to stay up until dawn if it meant learning just one song, just one perfect song.

Throwing open the door to his cluttered room, Drecchser dug through his closet and under his head. He unearthed old dusty boxes of musical instruments, most of them out of tune or missing a string, and lined them up against the wall. He rubbed his chin and grinned. One of these would work, surely.

Attempt One: Bagpipes. Drechser held the instrument in his paws and tried to remember how to hold them. Where did he blow in? Was it always so squishy? Do you squeeze here or--BREEEEAAAAAA! The single note shook the windows in his bedroom, rattled the furniture, and blew several tufts of fur out of his silky black coat. Sheepishly, he tucked the bagpipes under the bed, where they belonged.

Attempt Two: Jelly Drum. The drum wobbled and shook in Drechser’s paws. Dust, fur, and a few errant flakes of cereal were stuck to it, but Drechser gripped the drumsticks and took a moment to try and remember the basics of drumming. (Hitting, that’s it, right? Hitting them really hard?) He gave the drums a whack. With a resounding splat, the jelly drum burst into globs of delicious, bouncing jelly with a festive, fruity aroma.

Attempt Three: Oboe. Growing impatient, Drechser grabbed an oboe. For the life of him, he could not recall why he had given this one up. How difficult could it be? Just hold it like so, grip it loosely, press the keys, and blow. He blew into the oboe, sending the instrument flying across the room, where it stuck into the wall, quivering like an arrow.

Attempt Four: Faerie Wing Guitar. Out from the closet, Drechser pulled out a beautiful, handcrafted Faerie Wing Guitar. It had cost him a pretty NeoPoint but sadly, his strumming skills were as bad as his rhythm. The guitar seemed to remember this, and at the touch of his paws, its wings fluttered and it flew out of the window, never to be seen again.

Attempt Five: Dung Sousaphone. Drechser took one look at the dung sousaphone and threw it into the garbage. How did that even get in here?

Attempt Six: Snow Harmonica. Feeling impatient, Drechser held the snow harmonica tightly to his lips. The beginnings of hopelessness started to creep in from the corners of the room. What if he truly wasn’t good at any instrument? He held his lips to the snow harmonica and took a breath. What if no matter how hard he tried, he failed? Before he could breathe out, the harmonica melted into his paws. His fur was cold and wet and Drechser began to shiver. With a soft whimper, he held his wet hands to his face and began to cry.

Two weeks passed, but poor Drechser spent most days curled up in his bed, clutching his tail like a favorite plush toy. He wasted hours staring at the window, ate sparingly, and sighed until he could bear his sadness no more. Despite his spirits, he promised to attend the Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee Jiggy Jamboree for the Jolly Jubilation of Juliana Jetsam.

Fortunately, the festival had more than just a concert. Drescher traveled to the festivities by the sea, on a shore with golden sand and air fragrant with kelp and salt. The beach was crowded with food stalls, vendors selling painted seashells, fried bread on a stick, pastries sweetened with honey and dried berries, stuffed crepes, and spicy peppers. Feeling light-hearted at last, Drechser bought himself a steamy mug of fruit grog and a tall cheesy potato tower that swayed from its own weight. As always, no hurt was too deep that a decent helping of food couldn’t at least help him forget for a time.

Juliana, a hefty, beautiful Jetsam with a tall beehive wig, darkened eyelids, and a jewel covered gown walked through the fair, her smile wide and her pose aloft with confidence. She greeted her guests, mostly other Jetsams who were eager to celebrate, slapping their fins together in excitement. Moving through the crowd, she reached Drechser, who lowered himself into a bow, and wiped the last of the cheesy potatoes off of his face.

“Thank you for attending my Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee Jiggy Jamboree for the Jolly Jubilation,” she crooned, to which Drechser responded in kind. Despite her warm smile, he couldn’t help the disappointment of his misadventures get to him. Trying to best he could to hide his deep-seated sadness, Drechser joined the Jetsams in their liveliness.

As the festivities went on, Drechser waited for the band to begin. Sure enough, Hamish was there, his hair larger and shinier than ever, his suit so full of rhinestones that he jingled when he moved. Upon a large wooden stage, the band assembled, tuning their instruments. Two dozen other Neopets in their finest gowns and suits nodded at each other, flipping through sheet music and plucking a few practice notes.

Already beginning a second (or third) snack, Drechser parked himself next to the stage and watched. The band began with a nod from Hamish and a swift move from his conductor baton. A rising swell of string music descended upon the guests, followed by the clear notes of a piano and finally, a thrumming of drums. It was, in a word, perfect. Of course it was, Drechser thought sadly, because he was not on stage to ruin it.

His own momentary self-pity almost distracted him from the change in the audience’s mood. Suddenly, there was a shift. While the other Neopets around Drechser, the Ixis, the Kacheeks, the Blumaroos, the Poogles, and others, were enjoying the symphony, the Jetsams were not. Each Jetsam, including the guest of honor, held their fins over their eyes and squinted their eyes in disbelief. Some shook their heads. A baby Jetsam started to cry. A few Jetsams began to walk away from the stage.

What was going on? Drechser puzzled. He came up to Juliana Jetsam, noting she too was covering her ears. With a frown, she turned to Drecher and complained, “This is simply awful! Violins and piano? What sort of Jetsam party has instruments like the cello?” She tutted in disapproval.

“You mean….” Drechser paused, putting the pieces together. “Do you mean that you don’t like this music?”

Juliana Jetsam groaned and shook her head. By now the symphony had noticed that the crowd was far from receptive. Hamish stood mouth half-agape at the crowd, his cheeks starting to flush.

“No self-respecting Jetsam listens to music like this,” She protested. “I was really hoping on my Jaunty Jubulius Jitterbug Jazzy Jubilee Jiggy Jamboree for the Jolly Jubilation that the band would remember that we prefer a little noise!” The music by now had stopped, and each musician looked quite embarrassed.

“What instruments do Jetsams prefer?” Drechser asked.

“Well,” Juliana Jetsam shrugged, “you know, proper instruments! Like nails on a chalkboard!”

Chances were low that Hamish had any nails on a chalkboard along with him, but Drechser had an idea. With a surge of confidence, he walked up to the stage and climbed up. Hamish’s poor face was as red as his hair, even through his thick fur. Drechser put a paw of Hamish’s shoulder and moved the Kyrii aside.

“Hamish, my training is about to pay off,” the Kougra winked and with a flourish, he took a large trumpet from the hands of an Elephante.

With a huge breath and a puff of air, Drechser blew into the trumpet. The roar was deafening. BRRRRAAAAAAP! Hamish and the band covered their ears and crouched down. A few Neopets in the crowd fainted from the sheer awful sound. Laughing, Drechser blew once more, just as loud, just as awful.

Every Jetsam in the crowd, including Juliana Jetsam, broke into a cheer. They clapped their fins and jumped in a circle as Drechser continued bleating out awful notes from the trumpet. Juliana Jetsam let out a whoop and spun in a circle, holding her dress out and spinning.

Meanwhile, Boris started to pack up and flee. Chias ran covering their ears. Skeiths took off, leaving their half-eaten meals behind. But the Jetsams all stayed, hollering, dancing, and screaming with delight. Drechser moved from instrument to instrument, playing out of tune piano, drumming without rhythm, and even singing tonelessly at the top of his lungs. For once, he was celebrated. Someone threw a rose on stage (Juliana Jetsam, he hoped) and he caught it between his teeth, dancing between instruments, happier than he had ever known he could be.

Hamish and the band watched, shoving handfuls of grass into their ears to dampen the sound. It truly was the worst sounding music Hamish had ever heard. And yet, he smiled the entire time. Perhaps, he thought to himself, Drechser’s next music lessons would be free.