Chapter Three
The next evening also, Gauche returned home carrying his cello wrapped up on his back. After gulping down a glass of water he began playing just like he had the night before.
Midnight soon passed, and one O’clock, then two O’clock came and went, but still Gauche played on. As he continued playing and playing, no longer aware of the time or even that he was still playing, he could hear someone knocking from up on the roof.
“Cat, haven't you learnt your lesson?” yelled Gauche, but the next moment there was a loud fluttering sound, and a single grey bird flew in through a hole in the ceiling. As it landed on the floor, Gauche could see it was a cuckoo bird.
“Even the birds are coming! What do you want?” asked Gauche.
“I want to learn music,” replied the cuckoo calmly.
Gauche laughed,
“Music!? Don't you just go cuckoo, cuckoo?”
The cuckoo became very serious,
“Yes, that's it. But it's quite difficult, you know.”
“How hard could it be? It might be hard singing so much, but there’s not much to the singing itself, is there?”
“Actually, it’s really very difficult. Why, if one cuckoo bird sings ♬-cuckoo-♬ like this, and another sings ♬-cuckoo-♬ like this, you'll notice they sound completely different.
“Sounds the same.”
“Well you just don’t know, that's all. If ten thousand cuckoos sang ♬-cuckoo-♬, then all ten thousand would be different.”
“Whatever you say. If you know all that then what are you doing coming to me?”
“Well you see, I want to be able to do the proper Do-Re-Mi.”
“As if birds have Do-Re-Mi!”
“Yes, I need it before I go overseas.”
“As if birds have overseas!”
“Master Gauche, could you please teach me Do-Re-Mi? I'll follow your lead.”
“Boy, you are irritating. Alright, I'll play it three times and you’d better be leaving as soon as I’m done.”
Gauche stood up his cello, strummed it a couple of times to tune it, and started playing ♬-Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do-♬. The cuckoo noisily flapped its wings.
“That's not it, that's not it. It doesn't go like that!”
“You are irritating. Let's hear your version then.”
“It's like this,” and the cuckoo bent forward, braced itself momentarily, and let out a single,
♬-cuckoo-♬.
“Huh?! That's your Do-Re-Mi? Do-Re-Mi, Symphony No. 6, it's all the same to a cuckoo bird.”
“No, that's not true.”
“How isn't it?”
“It’s difficult when you have to sing it over and over.”
“You mean like this?” and Gauche took hold of his cello and played ♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-♬, over and over and over.
The cuckoo bird became ecstatic and joined in, singing ♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-♬. Bending forward as far as it could, it sang on and on and on. Gauche's hand eventually became sore, “Alright, that’ll do,” he said, and finished playing.
The cuckoo lowered its eyes sadly as it continued to sing, before slowly trailing off, ♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuck…cuck…koo…-♬
Gauche became furious,
“Look bird, if there’s nothing else then go home!” he yelled.
“Please, if you could just play it one more time. Yours is pretty good, it’s just a little off.”
“What did you say? I’m not taking lessons from you, you know. Aren’t you going home?”
“Please, just one more time. Please,” begged the cuckoo, bowing its head over and over.
“Alright, but no more after this.”
Gauche readied his bow. The cuckoo let out a “Koo” as it took a breath,
“Now, please play as long as you can,” it said, bowing one more time.
“What a pain you are,” said Gauche, giving a wry smile as he started to play.
The cuckoo became completely serious, bending forward and singing “♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-♬, with everything it had. At first Gauche was annoyed, but as he continued to play on and on, he started to get the feeling that it was actually the cuckoo that had the proper Do-Re-Mi. In fact, the more he played, the more he felt the bird had it right.
“Ah... if I keep this up I’ll turn into a bird myself,” said Gauche, and stopped all of a sudden.
The bird started to sway as if it had been whacked on the head, and then trailed off as before,
♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuck…cuck…koo…koo…-♬
It looked angrily up at Gauche,
“Why did you stop there? Even the wimpiest of cuckoos keep singing until their throats start to bleed.”
“Oh, you're so cheeky! How long do I have to put up with your idiocy anyway? Go home! Look. It's nearly morning,” said Gauche, pointing out the window.
The eastern sky had taken on a silvery haze and the pitch black clouds were moving steadily toward the north.
“Ok, then please play until the sun comes up. One more time. Only a little more,” pleaded the cuckoo, bowing its head again.
“Shut up! What are you talking about, you silly bird. If you don't get out of here I'm going to pluck you and eat you for breakfast!” yelled Gauche, stamping his foot on the floor.
Frightened, the cuckoo suddenly took off, making straight for the window. It smashed its head straight into the glass, falling down with a thump.
“You flew straight into the glass, you silly bird,” said Gauche as he rushed to open the window, but this window wasn’t one that ever opened smoothly.
As Gauche stood trying to rattle it loose from its frame, the cuckoo once again flew smack into the glass and fell down onto the floor. He could see blood trickling from the top of its beak.
“Can't you see I'm trying to open it?! Just wait!” said Gauche, who had barely managed to prize open the window a couple of inches when the cuckoo got back to its feet, and, staring out at the eastern sky with a look that said ‘it’s now or never,’ took off with every ounce of energy it could muster. Of course this time it hit the glass harder than ever, falling down to the floor with a thump where it lay motionless for some time. Gauche reached down to grab it and throw it out the front door, but suddenly the cuckoo opened its eyes and leapt backwards. Then it flew at the glass one more time.
Without thinking, Gauche raised his foot and gave the window a good kick. The glass gave out a massive crack as it broke into two and then three shards, the entire window falling out of the building, frame and all. The cuckoo shot out through the gaping hole like an arrow. It continued flying on and on, in an endless straight line, until eventually it was out of sight. Gauche stood staring out after it with a look of amazement on his face, before crashing in a corner of the room and falling asleep.
Gauche the Cellist and Other Stories Page 3
