Bohemia Village Voice

The Piano Lessons

Alfie loved all insects, but mostly he loved stick insects. He had a tank in his bedroom, filled with twigs and leaves. Residing on the twigs were several stick insects, moving in their robotic way, trembling and quivering to their own sweet music, munching on greenery and reproducing over and over again.
Every morning he would gather any eggs they had laid in the night and put them into a jam jar, and he regularly gave them to his friends. It was wonderful when the eggs hatched out, revealing a miniature stick insect, so perfect in every way.
Alfie did not love piano lessons. They were stupid and boring and very, very difficult, especially when he didn’t practice, and he never practiced, because he found the whole process of learning to play the piano stupid and boring. It was his Mum’s idea and despite him pleading with her, begging her not to send him, she did, and for the last six Saturday afternoons he’d had to suffer Miss Kent, the dried-up old hag of a music teacher, inflicting torture on him by trying to make him play scales.
If there was anything worse than firstly, piano lessons, and secondly, Miss Kent, then it was SCALES. ‘What were they for?’, he asked himself continuously as he dislocated his fingers and thumbs trying to play the darned things. It was after his sixth disastrous lesson that he came up with a plan: he would use diversionary tactics and try and interest Miss Kent with something other than the fact that he had not done any practicing. It was a good plan, but what could he use to divert her attention? It came to him in a blinding flash.
He would take along Twiggy, his largest stick insect, and she would be so overcome with his charms that the lesson would be spent in admiring him and talking about stick insects.
The next Saturday he carefully placed Twiggy into a large Cook’s matchbox with a few air holes punched in the top and a spray of privet leaves – Twiggy’s favourite food – to sustain him on the journey. Miss Kent was in a particularly tetchy mood when Alfie arrived, so as soon as they sat down at the piano he turned to her and said “I’ve brought something wonderful to show you today, Miss,” and with that he opened the matchbox with a flourish to reveal Twiggy.
Immediately Miss Kent turned scarlet, jumped up from her chair and screeched “Do something, do something,” pointing to the matchbox. Alfie shut the box up quickly and looked at Miss Kent in utter disbelief. The woman was mad.
“How dare you bring that horrible thing into this house, you wretched boy?,” Miss Kent shouted.
“I thought you might like to see him,” said Alfie looking completely amazed.
“How can you think I would like to see such a monstrosity? I loathe insects,” she said, shuddering.
“What, all insects?” asked Alfie.
“Yes all of them – ghastly things. Well, that is enough about insects, let’s get on with the lesson, and don’t you dare open that box again.” And with that, Alfie’s torture began again.
When the next Saturday came, Alfie sat with a smile on his face all through the lesson. He still found the process of trying to play the piano excruciating, but he felt an anticipatory glow every time he thought about the matchbox full of stick insect eggs inside his trouser pocket and what he was going to do with them at the end of the lesson.