Blue Bottle Tree

Penny Molests Her Clarinet

Where are you now, whippoorwill? Wings cut the sky faster than eyes can see. It's probably not even a whippoorwill. Probably a bat. Gone in the cave where it's cool, where it's dark—to get away from that clarinet music, which is not even music. It's practice-music. It's what high school girls play in high school band when they aren't very good at it. Tomorrow I'm going to steal that clarinet.


And the fact that I would have to, Penny Longstocking ...the fact that it has come to this, is frankly embarrassing. For you. Would it really kill you to take a minute out of your tediously boring life to come up here and chitchat with old Seven from time to time?


I hang out in a cave, by myself. Yes, I'm very cool and freaky like that. But that doesn't mean a person can't get a little lonesome now and then. It's not like I'm desperate. You should really be a little more thankful of the respect I show by not bothering you. So considerate of your boundaries, and I'm a very nice guy who leaves you alone because you are so busy doing stupid stuff. 


I'm sure you have plenty of company at home and I know you have a whole table full of giggly girls to prattle with at lunch every day. Did you ever notice that I take my lunch outside? No? Oh, gee, Seven, I never noticed. Why do you do that? Because it's more comfortable to eat lunch alone outside than in the lunchroom. Or with Mad Dog, which is worse. Oh, you see me now. Praise be, to all the sweet angels in heaven, for Penny Longstocking has favored me with a wave. Wait a minute. Two waves? Three? Penny, have you lost your mind? 


She's swatting a fly. Wow, I didn't even get the wave. I waved back and she didn't notice. Am I invisible up here? So, you may not realize this, Penny Longstocking, but some people have to go back home to their mother who hasn't gotten out of bed in three days. And the next time she does she'll probably be possessed. What? Voodoo soul possession is not a thing in the Longstocking household? No? Well, it's stuff like that, that a person likes to shoot the breeze about with a friend. Everyone can use a little company sometimes and I'm not a total recluse. Mysterious loner dude, yes. But actually I'm very friendly, as you well know. 


Okay, and now you're leaving. Not even a nod. Soon enough I'll go back home where my mom is either not speaking to anyone, or else raving and going totally nuts. And my grandmother will be communing with the animals. 


Whippoorwill. Whippoorwill.


Oh, great. The bird heard me thinking. Thanks, whippoorwill. You're in the cave. Yes, right, time for me to come back in. I heard you. Good point. If I study Penny Longstocking all day, she's going to think I'm a perv. I'm not really alone, am I, whippoorwill? I've got a bird to keep me company. Most people aren't so lucky. You don't have to wear used clothes, do you, bird? Penny Longstocking never wears used clothes either. Her father is a lawyer. My dad was sent on a secret mission to die. My grandmother sells potions to hoodoos who come in from out of state. She's apparently very good at it. And when they can't afford it, she gives the stuff away. So I wear used clothes. How are you going to tell Penny Longstocking stuff like that? No, whippoorwill, we keep those things to ourselves. I feel like I want to tell her. Like we could be best friends. But for her sake, I can't. She'd probably have a heart attack.  


And there you go again—whippoorwill, whippoorwill. Just when I was thinking about you, I hear you urging me on. Sure, whippoorwill. Tomorrow, I'll steal that clarinet. Then she'll have to come up here. 


I think my grandmother sent the whippoorwill. Actually, I know she did. Do you have that, Penny Longstocking? Surprise, no. Animal spirits do not abound in your vapid Penny Longstocking life. 


We could make out sometimes too, just for a change of pace. Not like nonstop—occasionally would be nice. And you will never admit it, as I know, but that time in the snow was not just the tequila talking. Sure, you had never tried tequila before, and yes it is unusual for there to be a fifteen minute blizzard on the day after Thanksgiving. It was otherworldly. It was the most real thing that had ever happened in my life and it was a careless, forgettable fling for you. Don't lie, by saying nothing. You were melting in my arms and kissing me like you really meant it. Like you had been in love with me your whole life, and the snow, the beautiful snow on the day after Thanksgiving—that happened for us. And now you're leaving. No, actually she's not leaving. She's going to molest that clarinet again, like she has nothing better to do.