Rainbow Cello had married an eight string lyre who had her crying all of the time and playing her tiny violin in self-pitying melodies in minor keys. He was always leaving her at home alone with the infants cheating on her with Viola who, while shapely, was never in tune.
“I don’t care about that bastard,” Rainbow said to herself furiously wiping her tears. “He’s always had a tin ear, and one of these days he’ll empty his rainstick into the wrong cow’s bell and get the snot beat out of him by an angry bassoon.”
Her constant jealousy was depressing. That lying lyre had a new lie to tell on each of his eight strings, and he’d never stop being able to piss her off in C major or tug on her heartstrings in D minor with all his excuses and begging. And to add insult to injury, it was clear now he’d never find that spot on her G string and even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with it! Simultaneous double stop finger fluttering was so far beyond him he’d never even heard that angelic note she trilled when a lover got it right.
Rainbow’s girlfriend Dulcimer tried to comfort her by telling Viola jokes. On a visit one day she asked, “How are a violist and a prostitute the same?” Rainbow shrugged. “Both are paid to fake climaxes!”
Rainbow didn’t even crack a smile.
Finally her girlfriend Dulcimer said, “Come on honey, bring your chickadees and come out with me. You’ve got to get out and quit playing the tiny violin for that stinking lyre and have some fun. Let’s go to the traveling carnival! The babies will love it and you will too.”
Despite her sweet name, Dulcimer was a Taurus and persistence was her middle name, so Rainbow didn’t argue. They scooped up the babies, of which there were eight now, Profligate Fecundity being Rainbow’s middle names, and took the night bus to the carnival.
The babies radiated around them peeping, plucking and bouncing spiccatos with excitement as they wandered the fair. Dulcimer’s dad may be a juice harp, but he had deep pockets and a generous spirit, and Rainbow’s fragile heart swelled as her babies got to ride the Zippers, Ferris wheels, and Teacups–boogers, wet diapers and major blowouts notwithstanding.
Suddenly a shakade percussed in the midst of a traveling band and a five string banjo with washboard abs and twinkling eyes caught Rainbow’s attention with his bright smile.
Besides his picking he was finger licking good, taking to her and the babies, making promises out the kazoo, putting her all in a zither and a dither about what to do, what to do…
Dulcimer went home alone from the carnival that night, full of her friend’s promises to stay in touch and comforted by the knowledge that five string banjos had honest and faithful hearts, not to mention fabulous lovemaking skills and super-sensitive G string manipulations. He’ll make a much better partner and lover than that eight string lyre, she thought, and little Didgeridoo, Pennywhistle, Fiddledeedee and the rest would find
happiness with their joyous mother who could finally throw away her tiny violin and quit crying all of the time….