Chapter Six

It was the next day and Marigold had slept at the hospital, curled up in the waiting room. Her golden, curly locks hung from her pale face. Her snores echoed through the halls. Her head was on the hard bench. Earlier in the morning, someone lifted her head. When it was put back down, she felt something silky and soft. She opened her eyes to see a blue silk pillow. She heard footsteps behind her. Marigold sat up to see Cleo with another student of Stu's.
“Those kids,” she yawned. “Stu should be thankful.”

Boom, ba, boom, ba ba, boom.
Stu plugged his ears. Dreaded jazz music, he thought.
Boom, boom, beet ba, boom, bizz.
“Turn that thing down!” he snapped.
The music still continued. Finally reaching the end of his string, he sat up to give the jazz players a piece of his mind when he realized there were none. He found himself alone in a museum of music. Display cases held replicas of famous singers, musicians and bands. Thinking it was improbable that one of those mannequins could have woken him he almost went back to sleep.
BAM!
His dreams for sleeping were no more. He stood up as soon as he heard a drum crash. The drum continued to play loudly. Who was playing? He scanned the halls for any possible players. The drumming sounded familiar. He had heard the song before. His mind raced with possible ideas.

There she was, golden hair and blue eyes. She had bought a lovely pink dress that made her look stunning. If only he had the guts to talk to her. Then the song came on, the song that made him get up and ask her to dance. She gladly accepted the invite.
“This is my favorite song.” she said.
“Mine too! I say this is the best song the Beatles ever wrote!” This is why he remembered the song. It was how he met his wife. “I'd get by with a little help from my friends!” He sang.

That was it! That was Beatle song! He found a display case that held the Beatles who were actually moving. He rubbed his eyes, stared in amazement, then rubbed them again.
“Hey mate!” waved Ringo. Stu fell back, tripping over his own two feet. He heard laughter from the other displays. They were alive! He pressed his face against the glass, totally absorbed. He hadn't seen the Beatles in years. He stared until he saw another reflection in the glass. He wasn't alone; there was teenager behind him looking at another case. He approached her from behind.
“Isn't No Doubt great?” she asked him. “They're the best band in the world! No one is better than them!”
He liked this kid; she only liked one kind of music, one band and that was it. No argument. He couldn't say the same for one of his students; Johji, the music expert.

One day, Stu was walking down the hall when he heard unpleasant, piercing racket. (Or at least that's what he called it.) Johji was in the music room, playing his saxophone. Stu came in, yelling at him to stop.
He remembered Johji so well. He and Cleo were almost mistaken for being related. Same skin tone, same color hair except Johji was a bit muscular and had blue eye.
“Yo Mr. VelDeshine!” He greeted him.
“Jo,” He began. “Why do you waste talent on such noisy sounds?”
“What waste of talent? This is my music, Mr. VD and I like it.”
“I think you're the only one in the world who does!”
“And you know this how?” Johji asked slyly.
That was thing; Stu didn't know. So he made up a pretty lame lie. “If I don't like it, no one will!”
“That's not true. People have different taste! I mean I don't like all jazz. I like rock and others too!”
“Now there is a laugh! What idiot likes different types of music?”
“Me sir.”

Stu sniffed at this thought. Now there was stupid child. There was different types of music for everyone therefore no one could like different kinds at the same time! It was impossible! He looked around the halls some more and saw others who stared at only one case.
“Don't you just love jazz?” asked one.
“Isn't Elvis just the best!”
“No one is better than Brittany Spears!”
Stu smiled; this was what music was all about. Again, there was laughter. A black, male mannequin in a display case was laughing.
“Boy this dawg is rich!” He laughed. “This guy thinks you can only like one band and type of music!”
“So?” asked Stu. “That's the way is should be!”
“Why?” Stu was speechless; he had no idea why. He thought for a moment; then longer and longer but still he didn't know why. “You don't know do ya?”
“Well I think everyone here agrees with me!” He said promptly.
The man behind the glass rolled his eyes towards a young man about in his 20's. Stu looked at the mannequin then at the man. The mannequin snapped. There was flash of brilliant light. It was suddenly dark and quiet until there was an wonderful explosion of jazz. Stu's feet started tapping. He tried to stop them. He found the music charming and irritable. He let his feet tap, then move, then dance. After the lights came back on, he was out of breathe.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“That came from him!” The mannequin pointed back to the young man. “His name is Be Rock. As much as he loves jazz, he's also into rock and roll! Have a listen!”
Lights went out, music started playing. This time it was a awesome electric guitar solo. The lights came back on but Stu still couldn't believe that the music had come from that little Be Rock man.

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