CHAPTER 3
Clang Thump Ting Thump
Fly stepped into the center of the room. He moved his plastic guitar from back to front. He plucked the four strings to see if they were in tune. He cleared his throat.
“Well?” said Wolfie.
“You can’t rush an artist.” He straightened up, strummed his guitar and began to sing.
This is my song; it isn’t yours.
I’ve made it up; my mom adores—
It!
Here is the tune; here are the words.
My brother thinks it’s for the birds—
Blah!
It’ll make me cool, this song of mine
Because it proves I’m good at rhyme—
See?
And now I’m out of things to say,
So I’ll sing my song in the exact same way
Again!
Fly started at the beginning and sang all the verses again. Then he started it a third time.
“Hold on a second,” Wolfie interrupted him.
Fly stopped. “What is it?” said Fly. “Did you find the problem?”
“I think a song that goes on and on forever is a bit of a problem.”
Fly snapped his fingers, or tried to. “You’re right! I need one final verse. Let me think a minute.”
He paced back and forth, muttering words under his breath. He stopped and stared up at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for inspiration. Wait, I’ve got it! Here, listen to this.”
He strummed the guitar again.
But every song does need an end,
And the rules of songs I will not bend—
The end!
He hit the guitar one last time and stood there expectantly. “Well?”
“That definitely is an ending,” said Wolfie. “In fact, it uses the word end twice.”
“Now I’m ready for the talent show. And I bet I’m going to win first prize too.”
“There is one little problem still,” Wolfie said.
“Really? Lay it on me.”
“It’s your timing.”
“My timing?”
“It’s off. Sometimes you speed up and sometimes you slow down. You need a steady beat.”
“Hmm, a steady beat. Right. Good advice. Excellent, in fact. There’s only one problem. I’m not very good at keeping a steady beat. Can you help me?”
Wolfie twitched her nose. She didn’t want all her free time to get used up helping Fly. On the other hand, it was a challenge to figure out a way to help him. And she liked challenges.
“Maybe I can show you,” she said. She looked around, but there was nothing useful in the living room so she went into the kitchen. Fly followed her. She saw a plastic garbage can, took out the bag and turned it upside down. Then she got a couple of wooden spoons from the drawer. She sat on the floor.
“I’ll tap out a steady beat. Listen. One two three four, one two three four…”
She held the spoons like drumsticks and hit the overturned garbage can with one and then the other. Thump thump thump thump. Fly listened, bobbing his head with each thump. He swung his guitar around and began to strum in time with Wolfie.
“That’s it,” she said. “Just keep the same steady beat.”
Fly strummed along, smiling. And then suddenly he stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But you need something else.” He went over to the counter and picked up a small metal pot. He turned the pot over and put it down next to the garbage can.
“Try hitting the pot every once in a while.”
“Why?”
“Just try it.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
Thump thump thump clang, thump thump thump clang…
Fly strummed his guitar again. The drumming and the guitar sounded good together.
Fly stopped again.
“Now what?” asked Wolfie.
“You need one more thing.” He went to the cupboard and opened the door. He found a pot lid and took it out. Then he took the paper-towel roll off its upright stand. He put the stand on the other side of the garbage can and balanced the lid on it.
“There! A cymbal,” he said. “Try hitting this once in a while, too.”
“Interesting,” said Wolfie. And she started again.
Clang thump ting thump, clang thump ting thump…
“That’s it!” Fly cried. He started to strum, and then he began to sing.
This is my song; it isn’t yours…
They went through the verses twice before Fly sang the new ending. On the last word, Wolfie gave the cymbal and the garbage can a final crash.
“Yes!” shouted Fly, pumping his fist in the air. “That’s it! That’s the music I want! Guitar and drums. We rock! We’re a band, Wolfie, we’re really a band!”