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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Eleventh Nightdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Imadjinn
    ASL Info:    17/M/Neverwhere
    Elite Ratio:    4.27 - 340/348/146
    Words: 718
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 715
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3892



    Description:
       I went to a concert, and heard a version of this story, so I transcribed it myself, and made a few changes.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Eleventh Nightdots
    -------------------------------------------



    Jack was a lonely accordion player. Every day he would wake up, leave his house, and travel over the train tracks, under the subway, and down the street to the street corner across from the market. Every day he would play his tunes on his squeezebox until the sun went down. Then he would cross the street, go under the subway, across the train tracks, and back to his house.

    If you ever asked Jack what song he was playing, he wouldn’t have an answer, because he would just play whatever he saw. He would play “The Man on the Park Bench Eating a Sandwich” or “The Woman Crossing the Street” or “The Bird Flying across the Sky.” So you needn’t ask Jack what he was playing, because you could just think about whatever he was thinking about, and there you would have an answer. So Jack would squeeze out his tunes from day until night, each day playing a new tune for what he saw.

    Well, one day, Jack was playing his tunes, he happened to be playing “A Man Buying Cabbage from the Market”, when suddenly a woman caught his eye. His tune faltered, and his squeezebox went dry for a moment, then suddenly, he was playing “The Most Beautiful Woman I have Ever Seen”. He played this tune for as long as he saw the woman, then he played “Thinking about a Beautiful Woman.” The end of the day came quickly playing the same tune, and while packing up his squeezebox, he whispered to himself, “I would give anything to spend one night with that woman”. He sighed, and was about to walk home when a small man nudged him. Jack looked at the small man, who said “Would you really give anything to be with that woman for a night? Would you give a finger?” Jack laughed at the small man and continued toward home, when suddenly he felt a pinch at his leg. “I’m asking you a question.” The small man said, “Would you give your finger to be with that woman?” Jack thought for a moment, then replied “W-why y-y-yes, I would g-give my finger to be with her.” The little man laughed, and twiddled his nose, and suddenly the woman appeared around the street corner, looked him in the eye, and walked over to him. So they walked home, and had a night of lips and legs.

    The next morning, Jack went over the train tracks, under the subway, and across the street where he set up his music. He began to play tunes more bright and wonderful than anything he had played before. He sang about the man eating his sandwich, the woman buying groceries, and each tune he played was brighter and more wonderful than the last. Every once in awhile, though, you would notice that Jack missed a note, and he would frown for a moment, but continue to play his bright and wonderful tunes. Later in the day, Jack again got the chance to play “The Most Beautiful Woman I Have Ever Seen”, but the woman just walked by, not even seeming to notice Jack. He sighed, and packed up his squeezebox, and once again whispered to himself “I would give anything to spend another night with that woman.” And once again, the little man showed up, and pinched him on the leg. “Would you really give anything? Would you give another finger?” Jack thought for a moment. He had played the most wonderful music he had ever played, and it had been a wonderful night. So he once again said yes, and once again the woman appeared around the corner, and once again, they played the game of lips and legs.

    And so it continued like this. Every day the little man appeared, and every day Jack said yes, and every night the woman would come around the corner, and they would play the game of lips and legs. For eight more nights.

    So if you ever see Jack on the corner, across from the market, soundlessly moving the bellows of his squeezebox in and out, you won’t have to ask him what tune he is playing. Because you will know the tune is called “The Eleventh Night”




    Submitted on 2009-05-05 21:32:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Ha! The punchline didn't click straight away, but now it has. I liked this. A nice departure from the norm. Fair play!

    | Posted on 2009-06-19 00:00:00 | by alexboy | [ Reply to This ]


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