The townspeople were fife dumb, so much so that simple tunes made their ears split. Many were frightened of quavers and basso, others fearful they might fall prey to musical tomfoolery, a fate worse than tone deafness or colour blindness. The man in the jamboree cap tapped in his shoeshine shoes, the townsfolk whooping and hollering for more! The littlest of the townsfolk, a boy named Romero, balled the jack in front of Quesos' Five and Dime, watching the tap dancing man out of the corner of his eye, the sun blazing like a potter’s kiln. No one knew why they felt the way they did, tin flutes not being a common instrument among the townsfolk.
The day after the Flabiol Cobla Trio played under a circus awning bigger than a ship’s sail, the townsfolk felt they’d been witness to an act of grace, some folks so enrapt, much as they tried they couldn’t get a wink of sleep. One of the townsfolk, a man with a port stain birthmark, felt so spellbound by the experience he refused sleep or eat food for forty days, claiming sleep and food were signs of excess, acts befitting halfwits and dogmen.
The town fool, Alberto Japer, lived under the bridge that crossed the river that crossed through the middle of town. He slept hunkered beneath a sleeve of cardboard, awaking each and every morning to a blazing hot blazing sun. Being the town fool, a position he took great pride in, it was expected that he be at his post in the town square by 9 am. At exactly 27½ seconds past the hour, no sooner no later, he began his day’s work, acting the fool for all to stare upon, some throwing rotten things at him, others simply staring at him in disbelief. No sooner had he ducked the first thrown tomato then he found himself knee-deep in townspeople having nothing better to do than gawk at and harangue the town fool.
The day after the Flabiol Cobla Trio played under a circus awning bigger than a ship’s sail, the townsfolk felt they’d been witness to an act of grace, some folks so enrapt, much as they tried they couldn’t get a wink of sleep. One of the townsfolk, a man with a port stain birthmark, felt so spellbound by the experience he refused sleep or eat food for forty days, claiming sleep and food were signs of excess, acts befitting halfwits and dogmen.
The town fool, Alberto Japer, lived under the bridge that crossed the river that crossed through the middle of town. He slept hunkered beneath a sleeve of cardboard, awaking each and every morning to a blazing hot blazing sun. Being the town fool, a position he took great pride in, it was expected that he be at his post in the town square by 9 am. At exactly 27½ seconds past the hour, no sooner no later, he began his day’s work, acting the fool for all to stare upon, some throwing rotten things at him, others simply staring at him in disbelief. No sooner had he ducked the first thrown tomato then he found himself knee-deep in townspeople having nothing better to do than gawk at and harangue the town fool.
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