A BASS FABLE

Christopher was excited at the prospects of a glittering career. It was 2003 and he had been born after a very lengthy and precision driven manufacture. He felt sore in places from the scrapings but these were mainly internal so didn't show and didn't deter from the immaculate finish on his gleaming hide. He looked about him at the other beautiful instruments and felt more than a little bit chuffed at how he and the other double basses dominated. He momentarily felt sorry for the guitars and violins as they seemed so small and insignificant but quickly forgot them as he caught sight of himself in the mirrored wall at the back of the shop. Unfortunately he also caught sight of the cellos and his Evah Pirazzi strings thrummed as he gave a little tremor of distaste. Only yesterday they had taunted him by saying that he would never experience the pleasure of being caressed between the thighs of a beautiful and talented woman like Jacqueline du Pre. His fate was to be manhandled by a big sweaty jazz musicians or an overweight geek in a provincial orchestra. Distasteful. Catching sight of himself again in the mirror he felt calmer and daydreamed about making beautiful sounds at the Metropolitan or at The Hot Club under the wise and talented fingers of a Charles Mingus or a Francesco Petracchi.

Time slipped by then...disaster! The shop owner has announced that he has to make cutbacks due to a downturn in business and a slow down in supply to the great music centres of the world. Christopher was to be sent away to the other side of the world to a cultural wilderness known as New Zealand. He was distressed and felt sad as he was packed away and readied for shipment, catching the gleeful expression of a cello as they zipped up his bag. He slept for a long time, occasionally being jolted awake by strange sounds and movements before drifting back to sleep. Eventually, years later he awoke to find himself in strange surroundings. It was a music shop for sure but he was the only double bass. There were only three other finely crafted acoustic instruments on display additional to himself - a rather dumpy looking cello (hee hee he thought), a fraught looking violin and an elegant if pompous looking Spanish guitar. The rest of the shop space was taken up with wild and noisy-looking electric guitars, drum sets, cheap pianos and music stands. Time went by slowly. No-one showed serious interest in playing Christopher. His beautiful Evah Pirazzi strings were only occasionally plucked by grubby-fingered children Christopher would glower and make his best droning noise to discourage them. One day the store owner had a telephone call and kept looking over at him. After the call the shop owner came over and dusted and polished Christopher's woodwork until he gleamed. Satisfied with the result he removed the 'Sale' sign that was around Christopher's neck and replaced it with another sign saying 'Rare and Exclusive' and increased the price by 40%. Christopher felt proud and stood even taller. He began to daydream again, imagining accomplished and elegant musicians taking him to the best music venues to play great music. OK, he might well be in New Zealand but at least it was Auckland, the largest city and with the greatest potential to show off his quality. Weeks passed and then the shop owner seemed a bit excited at the arrival of someone. He overheard a conversation that was about him. It was a man, or at least a male. Unfortunately it was not a Jacqueline but hey, a Luigi would do. His heart sank as the owner of the voice came into view. A scruffy guy wearing red pants who looked like he could use a good shave and a toilet stop. This guy looked like a truck driver and probably was. He took hold of Christopher and struck a pose. It was a bit effeminate for a big guy but at least his fingers were gentle and elegant (albeit splayed in a weird way). He played and Christopher came alive. The guy could play well and had a nice manner about him. Christopher for once though was glad he wasn't a cello as he didn't want to nestle between this guy's thighs. Soon he was zipped up, paid for (handsomely), put in a car and was off. Before a long and terribly slow drive there was a highlight in that he was taken to a lovely picture gallery owned by a very sophisticated and elegant man who asked Christopher's new owner to play some music. This was Christopher's first public performance and in such great surroundings he was overjoyed. The gallery owner, in an attempt to improve the look of Christopher's new owner, encouraged him to wear the bass bag with the intention of zipping it up. Unfortunately it wouldn't fit over the big guy and had to be worn as a type of hood. It was an improvement though. All too soon it was time to go and they were on the road again. Hamilton, Taupo, Turangi, Hunterville ... the strange names dawdled by and Christopher wondered where he was being taken to. Hours later a sign said 'Wellington' and his spirits rose. In his home land he had heard of music festivals being played there and he thrummed in anticipation. What the..? The car turned off before Wellington and skirted around the harbour going Eastwards before laboriously negotiating a long and winding hill road and arriving at a place named Wainuiomata. Christopher wept. So this was the end of the road. He was glad that those smug cellos couldn't see him. He had got the big guy to give back the bass bag and shrunk down inside it.

After a while Christopher settled in though. The big guy seemed to know what he was doing and looked after him very well. The downside was losing his beautiful Evah Pirazzi strings because they were replaced by Belcantos. He missed the pizz sound (and, if he could talk would have said to Richard (the name of the big guy with the red pants) 'are you taking the pizz? Ha Ha). The new arco sound eventually grew on him though and he settled down to his fate. Richard does love him though, he thought, even if he took away his manly name and re-christened him 'Gloria' He understood the reason for the name change though and gave his best sounds when played in honour of Richard's mother.

Richard was a bit erratic in his playing time, seeming to practice in fits and starts. He would go out each day for hours and hours and on returning spend more time at his computer rather than play with 'Gloria'. " I suppose that's what truck drivers have to do though" thought Christopher and resigned himself to it. Yesterday Christopher heard Richard announce that he was going to have a week off and was going to spend hours and hours practicing on 'Gloria'. Christopher felt a thrill of anticipation mixed with a bit of apprehension. "I hope he's gentle with me" he thought and reconciled himself with the fact that at least he wouldn't have to be between Richard's thighs.