The CD player is very apparent and Amy Mann’s volume increases in my mind. I start to feel like she is actually sitting in the next room performing. This doesn’t seem out of the question, it doesn’t seem odd at all. I slide off the chair onto the floor and crawl into the living room towards the CD player.
When I turn the corner the black cat jumps at me, his paw lashes at my face. I dodge him but fall backwards, my head hits the corner of the coffee table, I look up and stare at the ceiling fan. The fins of the fan are huge and they begin to sprout white angel feathers. One of the feathers falls down to me but before it can hit my face the white cat climbs on top of me and rubs her belly upon my visage. I sneeze the cat off and sit up. My head is throbbing and Amy Mann’s voice starts to become ugly. She is singing about me, she is warning me of something. She is pointing out all of the terrible mistakes I made in my life. She becomes silence as I rip the CD player’s plug from its socket. I turn to the cats and smile. “How’s that for feminism,” I say and lick my lips. I turn to a small cabinet-bookshelf. I look over the collection of books and decide I want to read none of them. I open the cabinet and find a “Learn To Play Harmonica” kit. I rip it open and begin to blow random notes into the chromatic little instrument. I open the instruction booklet and begin to practice sucking in and blowing out air from the little holes. An hour later I sit the cats on the couch and I play a small concerto for them. I begin with Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star, then follow it up with Three Blind Mice. The finale is Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush and I pull that off perfectly. The cats seem entranced by the harmonica music and I decide to do an encore, playing a song of my own making. It is only fifteen notes long and when I finish I tell them the song was titled “Fascism”. |