Some of you will remember that my mechanic, Sylvester, is a bit of an inventor. His last invention, the Boner, did ok and was technologically sound, but (ironically) never achieved the market penetration he’d hoped.
This morning I was startled to awake to a strange haunting sound coming from the direction of Sylvester’s workshop. At first I thought that the city was testing it’s Early Warning System, originally used to forewarn of a nuclear attack, but now consigned to warn of any of Donald Trumps family infiltrating Canada. I was however mistaken. The sound would come and go, like a ghostly melody drifting across a post apocalyptic landscape, or Detroit. Several residents of Huckleberry Close were congregating outside their houses looking worried, until the sounds faded away.
Soon after breakfast Sylvester arrived towing a trailer behind his truck with what appeared to be a large amount of scrap metal. I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a loose top, floral with a mesh shoulder panel. Very feminine.
“That’s not scrap metal,” he said looking hurt.
“Oh, is it the new Tesla,” I asked trying to make it out.
“No, it’s my new invention,” he insisted. “It’s the Can Pipes.”
“Oh,” I said, hiding my reservations. “That’s, ummm, nice.”
“It’s a cross between a steel band and the bag pipes. It’s incredibly musical.”
I looked at the mass of pipes and cylinders, and what appeared to be an enormous funnel.
“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” I said hoping he wouldn’t try to demonstrate the device.
“Look,” he said. “I’ll demonstrate.”
“Really,” I insisted. “It’s not necessary.”
“Oh, it is. You see it combines the twin musical benefits of being completely unique, and inescapable.”
“I’m not sure those are what I would describe as being ‘benefits’, but then, I’m not as musical as you are, Sylvester,” I said doubtfully.
A moment later Sylvester hooked a pipe up to his trucks exhaust pipe and after a long wheezing sound, with accompanying bursts of air being released from valves I heard the sounds I’d heard earlier that morning. It was really quite disturbing. It has been said that the bag pipes sound like someone strangling a cat. The Can Pipes sounded more like someone trying to beat the cat to death with a large cylinder.
As the sound ended I poured Sylvester a large eggnog, and ushered him inside the house. Perhaps passers by would assume the object in the drive of my house was some kind of unfortunate car accident.
“I’m really not sure you should pin your hopes on the Can Pipes,” I said to Sylvester.
“You don’t think it will appeal to the Caribbean and Scottish cultural communities?” Said Sylvester.
“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t say I felt I was actually there among the coconut palms, or the glens, or whatever, but it was certainly an unusual sound. Perhaps you should try accompanying the Christmas Carol singers tonight,” I said encouragingly.
I poured him some more eggnog.
“I’m sure they’d love that.” I said.
Enjoy the rest of Christmas eve. I just love the sound of the Steel Band above, and I hope you enjoy it too. Jack up the volume and share it with your neighbors. I hope the season holds all you wish for.
Best wishes for the Christmas season,