It all started on Sunday night. The air was cool and crisp, the sun was bright, and there was a faint breeze. Happy tourists roamed the streets of downtown Branson looking for frivolous nothings to spend money on. In short, it was a very pleasant fall evening. Thus, no one had an inkling of what was to come. *play scary music*
The 'rents had dropped me off in front of Dick's Five and Dime to do my stuff for an hour before church. I was really looking forward to playing on such a gorgeous evening, and getting paid for it! So I opened my case, threw some "seed money" in, and got to it. Before long I was attracting smiles and dollars. It was all going swimmingly until I heard a small put. What on earth is a put, you may ask? Well, the exact nature of this put cannot be exactly described, unless one happened to be standing right there when it happened. Suffice it to say it was a definite put. I thought nothing of it until my bow crossed strings to play on the E, and instead of an E, there came out a B flat! (Right now you may be thinking that I have excellent ears to be able to tell so exactly the different notes, but in order not to spread falsehoods, I shall now confess: I used my handy little tuner. So now you know the whole truth you may go back to reading the saga.) Supressing an expression of extreme distaste, I put my violin down and proceeded to tune it back up. But, as I was twisting the peg to turn the B flat into an E, the string broke! And there was no doubt about it either, it was definitely and completely broken. So I packed up.
Fast forward to Monday afternoon. Dad had driven me up to Springfield for symphony practice, and I asked him to take me up early so I could get a new E string from Hoover Music. No problem, since he and John could also seize the moment and go drool over guitars. So I walked in the door, and up to the string counter where I see perfect strangers. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, except that I had never seen any strangers at Hoover. Every other time I've walked in, it's always been the same people there. Well, talking to strange customer service people is a hurdle that must be crossed, so I swallowed and asked for a Pirastro E string. "Full size?" one of the strange men asked, and I answered "Yes, please." So far, so good. I perched my violin on the counter, and waited. It seemed to be taking a rather long time, and the man had another man helping him. What's all this? I wondered.
Finally, the man approached me and inquired, "So, uh, what type of Pirastro do you want?"
I stared at him speechlessly, thoughts swirling around in my head. What type? There are types? It's an E string, for crying out loud! He must be trying to trick me, although I don't know why, since I'm here to buy something. Maybe he's an evil genius trying to trap helpless young violinists into, uh, into something, I'm sure. "Gee, I don't know," I said finally, "uh, the package had gold lettering on it, does that help?"
The man went back and thumbed through the packages again with his helper.
Finally the evil accomplice came up to me waving no less than three packages with gold lettering. "Is it any of these?"
I gazed helplessly, searching my brain for some kind of recognition. None came. "I honestly can't remember," I said. "My last one was a Dominant, but my teacher wanted a Pirastro this time...." my voice trailed off.
Mr. Evil Genius asked me if I remembered the wrapping on the string itself. I shrugged helplessly. There was an awkward silence.
"It was green," my Daddy interjected suddenly, "it was green."
The evil accomplice asserted that that would be the Pirastro Olive. Sure, I guess I'll take it. I mean, it's just an E string, right? Oh, and can you please put it on for me?
"Sure, now would you like it wrapped around, or just hooked through?"
For the second time, my jaw opened and closed speechlessly. "Whatever you feel like doing," I finally blurt out.
"All right, but in order to do that I'll need the violin out of the case."
"Ohh, right. I guess that would help."
Both Mr. Evil Genius and his evil accomplice smile, and then evil accomplice threads my string. He tunes it, then I pack up and make my escape.
So, yup. There is the tale of the broken E string. Enjoy your day! :-)
Hee hee hee heeeee!!! --Britt
ReplyDelete