Hustle & Flow

The raccoon ran his nimble fingers over the smooth ivory in front of him. Long and black, artistic and refined, his hands suggested the creativity welling inside him. Ringo was a controversy of nature- one of those occassional mistakes which reminds us of Her wonder and Her cruelty in the same instant. He hefted his bulk forward, scooting closer to the keys of the piano. The question begged an answer- how could this lumbering creature move with such graceful intent? Belying his cloddish appearance, he maneuvered with cultivation and a regal dignity deserved only by the greatest Maestros.

As he shifted on the polished ebony bech, his gray black pet rippled in a knot of muscle. Black unreflecting eyes focused on the baby grand as if it were a crawfish or some other shelled delicacy. Raccoons posses a unique ability to consider anything in great detail. His wilder, uneducated relatives might ponder a shiny bauble or the smooth surface of a stone for hours, but not Ringo. He was a civilized raccoon- educated in the world of the human since birth.  He had studied the gleaming piano for days. He had caressed the smoothness of it until the calluses on his palms knew each key and its own secret song.

He sat upright on the bench. Like the tail of a tuxedo his ringed posterior draped and dangled behind him- gray to blac, gray to black- the rings stacked one beside the next.  He poised his hands in a dramatic movement above the ivory keys. Trance-like, he sat unmoving staring into the empty space ahead of him. He could have been a statue but was betrayed by the movement of his long whiskers as they twitched furiously.

Suddenly, the whisker movements ceased. A hush filled the space around the raccoon and his instrument. And his fingers fell onto the keys.

Brlwrng- Gadwanck- Dralampk- clanked the ivory keys. Somewhere in the night, the ghost of Sebastian Bach shivered.

Ringo continued to raised and lower his arms onto the keyboard. The keys squawked in furious obedience as he pressed against them. His long nails tapped rhythmically with each touch and contributed to the harmony.

Flweep- Traldop- Cloinkkk- the melody continued.He closed his eyes and felt the chords deep in his soul. Soon, the pounding reached a frantic pace and it seemed he could not continue, Ringo was overcome with the joy of his music. When his fingers could no longer keep pace with the music in his soul, he opened his furry lips and began to sing. He rocked side to side, his head leading his body. His ringed tail swung to and fro with the force of his sway and his nose shot skyward. His voice combined with the pounding began to crescendo as the somewhat prehistoric song escaped from his throat.

Suddenly, a blow struck his back from somewhere in the darkness. He swallowed the chord in his throat and spun angrily to surmise its source. There in the doorway, stood Khris. She shot an even more threatening glance toward him and clutched her robe closely around the cotton night gown draping her body.

He had seen the threat foretold in her eyes before. Resentfully, he climbed dwon from his perch on the piano bench. As his feet silently padded the floor, carrying him away from the force of her stare, he glanced over his shoulder and said,

"Geesh, Man, you messed up my flow." And Ringo's bulk disappeared quietly into the shadows of the room.