Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon
And The Best Musicians On Earth.
By exactly the morning of the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant
held in Holguín every year, Cherubiko, who was
the greatest of all the carnival float makers of the town of Holguín,
had just about finished putting together a bandwagon
as well built as any that had ever been built
anywhere on the face of the earth up to now:
Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon was made from the smoothest,
weightiest woods, and with the mightiest, coolest metals:
It looked like a flowering fantasy tree-house
over a flowery fantasy tree on wheels.
It boasted cloudfulls of streamers, birdflocks of laced bows,
nunfulls and nunfulls of bells and storms and storms of balloons
... as well as the brightest paper stars and moons
that had ever shone above any float
that had ever been made before in this world.
Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon was also filled to the brim
with blooming fresh blossoms, and with balls and bubbles,
and balloons that... floating gently downwards
--suddenly came to burst over
dramatically burning make-believe paper candles!
Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon was surrounded on all sides
by the fieriest bristling sparklers that ever truly blazed
before any human eyes--to that time!
"Oh!" cried all who saw it.
And, just to top it off, mind you, a dazzling confetti fountain
to crown it, like a magic mountain, itself enclosed
within a ring of musical springs --instead of water,
all gushing great globs of tiny candy bits!
This all and much more did Cherubiko put into his marvelous bandwagon,
as if to prove that he was indeed the very best maker of floats
and bandwagons in the entire town of Holguín!
"What a marvelous bandwagon," said Cherubiko's father.
"Yes," agreed Cherubiko's mother proudly: "Truly!
Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon will be the very best float ever
to roll down The Grand Avenue in the whole history of
the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant!"
* * *
On the morning of the pageant
(when the town of Holguín celebrates its Grand Carnival of Music)
even all the other float-makers of Holguín were heard to say:
"When Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon takes to the streets today,
oh my, but the music of the best musicians on earth will delight everyone
(lucky enough to be wherever it will wind its way through)
better than all of the music in the entire history of
the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant!"
That certain was everybody, including Cherubiko, that
the best musicians on earth would soon be fighting each other
for the privilege to ride aboard that marvelous bandwagon of his
... just as soon as they all laid eyes on the unquestioned marvel
of their bandwagon-and-float-making age.
Already all the dogs and cats of
Cherubiko's neighborhood seemed to agree:
They had followed Cherubiko's every move
while he had been building it
... as closely as if he had been building it for them.
Already, even before he had finished building it,
every dog and cat in his neighborhood
(who was on familiar terms with him)
had started dancing and singing (and, naturally,
pleading and pleading with him to be the ones picked
to take part in the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant
in his so very marvelous bandwagon).
Ah, they could already hear the music of the best musicians on earth,
and the cheers of everyone lining the streets that day,
waiting to see it rolling past them!
But Cherubiko had built his bandwagon only for
the best musicians on earth, and not for any of his pals
the singing and dancing dogs and cats of his neighborhood,
no matter how genuine their love for it.
So, precisely on the morning of the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant,
so early that the sun hadn't yet shown his bright yellow smile above Holguín
... Cherubiko harnessed his marvelous bandwagon
to a team of gorgeous horses, and
he shooed away every one of those good friends of his
(all of the old dogs and cats yet hanging around hoping to be picked
... even though Cherubiko had clearly warned them
again and again and again, while he had been building it,
that he was building it only, only, only for
the very best musicians on earth--and for no one else).
Then Cherubiko drove off his marvelous bandwagon
toward the Great Hall of The Musicians
to proudly invite them all (although only the very best
of the very best musicians there, naturally),
to parade in his marvelous bandwagon
in the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant.
Of one thing Cherubiko was certain (at least in his own mind):
All he would have to do would be to simply show up
before the Great Hall of The Musicians, toot his horn,
show off that marvelous bandwagon of his, and
all the best musicians on earth would immediately
begin fighting each other for the privilege
to win a place on his marvelous bandwagon!
* * *
When he arrived outside the Great Hall of The Musicians,
Cherubiko parked right in front of its great front door
and began to blow his own horn,
calling for the best musicians on earth to come
take a look at the most marvelous bandwagon of their
--or any-- era or age or country in this whole wide earth!
Out, out came the great musicians then,
rows and rows and rows of them
(or columns after columns after columns,
depending on how one looked at it):
Every instrument was represented
by a single column (or row) of musicians.
Every musician in every column (or row)
was following another musician, except for
the First Chair musician in each and every column (or row).
Every musician came out
carrying with him (or her) a chair which he (or she) would then set up
as quickly as he (or she) was in his (or her) proper position.
One after the other one after the other one,
always: the First Chair in each column (or row) of musicians
going to the musician who played that column of musicians' instrument
better than all of the other musicians
in that one column (or row) of musicians.
Then the Second Chair going to the second best musician
at the instrument in his (or her) column,
and the Third Chair to the third best...
And so forth and so on, down to the Seventy-Second Chair,
which always went to the musician who was but
only the seventy-second best musician on the instrument
all of the musicians in that one row (or column) of musicians played.
In the violin musicians' row, for example,
first came the First Violin musician (bringing with him his First Chair).
Then the Second Violin musician (with his Second Chair after him).
Followed by the Third Violin musician (carrying his Third Chair).
Then the Fourth Violin musician after the Third.
And the Fifth then after the Fourth...
And so forth and so on, all setting up their chairs
one after the other one (after the other one) in one long, long row
(or column) of chairs with violin musicians all
seated in one seemingly endless number of chairs
(in just that one row, or column, of violin musicians)
with up to seventy two of them in every other column (or row)
of all of the musicians coming out of the Great Hall of The Musicians then
... at the sound of Cherubiko blowing his own horn.
So too afterwards with the First Zither musician and his First Chair.
Followed by the Second Zither musician (and his Second Chair).
Then the Third Zither, Fourth, and Fifth, etc., all setting up
their properly placed chairs one after the other one...
So too with the First Oboe musician and his First Chair.
Followed by the Second Oboe musician (and his Second Chair).
Then the Third Oboe, Fourth, and Fifth, etc., all setting up
their properly placed chairs one after the other one...
And so forth and so on with all of the musicians there,
columns after columns (or rows by rows) sitting down
until there were dozens and dozens of different columns
(or rows) of chairs with musicians sitting on them out there in the street
(all arranged in front of and all arranged around the
Marvelous Bandwagon which Cherubiko had built... for them).
* * *
"What's all this awful racket?" suddenly
the First Trombone musician uttered (rather enraged)
just as soon as he was sure that the Seventy-Second Trombone musician
had been properly seated behind him (down at the tail end
of the long, long trombone musicians' column of chairs
... or row, depending on how one looked at it.
The First Trombone musician's anger was very shocking to Cherubiko.
After all, he had gone to the Great Hall of The Musicians
only to bring joy and cheer to them
(and them to the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant parade
... provided they were the very best there).
Nonetheless, "What is all this racket I hear out here?"
suddenly the Second Trombone musician seconded the First Trombone
musician from his chair behind the First Trombone musician's chair.
And, "Look, he's blocking the way!" complained the First Clarinet
musician, as soon as he noticed that Cherubiko's bandwagon was
parked right in front of their front door.
BUT only after making sure that the Seventy-Second Clarinet musician
in the column (or row) of seated clarinet musicians
had taken his (or her) proper chair
(it was too far away to tell whether it was a boy or girl musician down there
at the seventy-second tail end of the row --or column--
of properly seated clarinet musicians).
"Get that thing, whatever that thing is," demanded the Second Clarinet
musician, "get that thing out of the way
--immediately!" (from his chair behind the chair of
the First Clarinet musician), really, really upset now.
"How dare you blow your own horn at us, sir!"
cried the First Bugle musician, apparently very, very offended
that Cherubiko had not waited for him to blow his First Bugle first.
BUT naturally, only after the very last one of the bugle musicians
had taken his (or her) Seventy-Second Chair down at the tail end
of the row (or column) of properly seated bugle musicians.
"I have never heard a bugle played any worse!"
complained the Second Bugle musician next, seconding the First Bugle
musician from his chair behind the chair of the First Bugle musician.
After which the Third Bugle musician also very noisily said something
about Cherubiko's improper noise-making (from his chair
behind the chair of the Second Bugle musician).
Then the Fourth Bugle musician said something far worse still
from his chair behind the chair of the Third Bugle musician.
Then the Fifth Bugle musician bested him even better something worse...
And so forth and so on until the Seventy-Second Bugle musician,
whose chair was behind the chair of the Seventy-First Bugle musician,
was heard sounding off:
"The nerve of him!"
"Does he have all the proper paperwork, I wonder,"
suddenly the First (chaired) Harp musician
spoke up, "to take us for a ride?"
"I understand that it takes a month or more for all the proper permits
and licenses to be properly processed and approved!"
said the Second Harp musician
from his chair behind the First Harp musician's chair.
"He doesn't look to me like he has the knack for getting such things straight,
or done in time, either!" said the Third Harp musician,
from his chair behind the Second Harp musician's chair.
After which, the Fourth Harp musician said something even far worse yet
from his chair behind the Third Harp musician's chair.
Then the Fifth Harp musician bested him
a lot better with something even worse...
And so forth and so on until finally the Seventy-Second Harp musician
(who just shrugged) told Cherubiko: "You know, feller,
you look a lot to me like someone who might suffer from
a touch of sticky fingers!"
Something with which all of the harp musicians
seated in the harp musicians' column (or row) agreed with instantly,
from the First Chair all the way down to the last one.
"Yes!" said the Seventy-Second Harp musician
next: "He cannot be trusted!"
"But the pageant is today!" Cherubiko pleaded:
"If I wait a month, the parade will take place without me!
Then all of the sparklers surely, and maybe even
all of the make-believe paper candles, will all have died away.
All of the tasty candies will taste terribly stale then.
All of the blooming fresh blossoms will have been wilted by Time.
And all of the sharply bright paper moons and stars
will have browned with age!"
Yet, "That is none of our concern!" said the First Guitar musician:
"Ours is the business of music, and yours is
maybe even entirely... something else!"
"You are only a paper gluer, you know,"
the Second Guitar musician mentioned then,
from his chair behind the First Guitar musician's chair
"Definitely," added the Third Guitar musician,
from his chair behind the Fourth Guitar musician's chair:
"Most definitely only a lowly hammerer of nails and sticks!"
"We are the strummers of art!" boasted the Fourth Guitar musician
proudly from his chair behind the Third Guitar musician's chair.
After him, the Fifth Guitar musician boasted something even worse
(far better) from his chair behind the Fourth Guitar musician's chair.
Then, after him, the Sixth Guitar musician bested him even worse still
(boasting something really, really bad)...
And so forth and so on, until the Seventy-Second Guitar musician,
who just shrugged from his Seventy-Second Chair at the tail end of the row
(or column) of guitar musicians and exclaimed:
"We are exactly like the very gods of Music, and, unfortunately,
you, sir, are not unlike some unspeakable bum!"
"Did you really think that little ole yours was the only float
or bandwagon that we grand musicians had ever set eyes upon?"
blared the First Piccolo musician next.
"Yours is certain not!" blared the Second Piccolo musician
from (the top of) his Second Chair in the row
of (normally) seated piccolo musicians.
"Why, we've seen dozens and dozen better!" blared the Third Piccolo
musician from (the top of) his chair
behind the Second Piccolo musician's chair.
After which the Fourth Piccolo musician blared something even sharper still,
and harsher, from (the top of) his chair
behind the Third Piccolo musician's chair...
And so forth and so on until the Seventy-Second Piccolo musician,
who just shrugged, and yodeled:
"Why, sir, my good man," then added the First Accordion musician:
"Friend, we see dozens and hundreds and thousands of floats
and bandwagons (practically every single day
that a pageant is being held... somewhere)."
"Yes," added the Second Accordion musician from his chair
behind the First Accordion musician's chair:
"Millions and billions and trillions!"
"And zillions and jillions," then added the Third Accordion musician
from the next chair behind that one...
And so forth and so until the Seventy-Second Accordion musician,
who merely shrugged at poor Cherubiko, and puffed:
"Certainly more than one."
"Now," suddenly the First Marimba musician
ordered poor Cherubiko: "Get that thing right out of here, mister!
And don't you dare come around bothering us again
until you first go through all the proper channels!"
"Yes," the Second Marimba musician also ordered as well
from the Second Chair in the row of seated marimba musicians:
"Just stay away from us!"
"Never show your face around here again" ordered the Third Marimba
musician from the Third Chair in the row (or column) of
seated marimba musicians,
"until you have gone through all the proper procedures!"
And so forth and so on all the way down to the Seventy-Second Marimba
musician, whose only comment to Cherubiko was: "Get out!"
"And take away that horrible monstrosity you dare to call
a carnival bandwagon, too!" agreed then the First Bassoon musician.
"Yes!" agreed the Second Bassoon musician from his chair
behind the chair of the First Bassoon musician:
"It is the most horrible monstrosity that we have ever had to look at!"
"Ugh, what horrible wagons they make us poor musicians ride in!"
agreed the Third Bassoon musician then
(from his chair behind the Second Bassoon musician's chair).
"Agreed," agreed the Fourth Bassoon musician from his chair
behind the Third Bassoon musician's chair:
"I'll never understand it, myself! Truly!"
"Yes! Why, why can't the people be the ones that ride by us
in such awful horrible wagons (as that one)
instead of us having to ride by them?" agreed the Fifth Bassoon musician
from his chair behind the chair of the Fourth Bassoon musician.
Then the Sixth Bassoon musician agreed as well
from behind the Fifth Bassoon musician's chair:
"I definitely believe that it would be much, much, much better
if we musicians were the ones who stood in one solid spot
and played while the people themselves marched their legs right off
before us --don't you all agree?"
But before the rest of the bassoon musicians could agree
all the way down the column (or row) of seated bassoon musicians
any further than right there, suddenly (indeed, unexpectedly):
"Agreed!" agreed the First Harmonica musician too.
"Agreed, agreed," agreed the Second Harmonica musician
from his chair behind the First Harmonica musician's chair.
"Agreed, agreed, agreed," agreed the Third Harmonica musician
from the Third Chair in the row of
all the properly seated harmonica musicians...
And so forth and so on, on down through fully seventy two
properly seated harmonica musicians--every last one of them
in total agreement down to even the Seventy-Second Harmonica musician,
who agreed fully seventy two times in a row (but, to save space,
we won't print all seventy two of them agreeing here).
"But it is such a marvelously built bandwagon!" cried Cherubiko,
tears streaming from his eyes
as he painfully remembered how hard he had worked
(and for one full, painfully hard-working year)
collecting only the best materials available
... to build his marvelous bandwagon.
"Streamers and streamers," he told them:
"All colored with only the most beaming tones in the entire universe
(did I pick) to make my bandwagon sound and look like a world to itself.
"Only the most bouncy and becoming balloons I could find
... to float above their baffling invisible strings.
Along with but only the most brilliantly hopping and leaping balls
(there were) dancing below their thinly veiled ones!
"Only the best, smoothest woods would have done
for my marvelous bandwagon! Only the mightiest and coolest metals!
Only the most stunning and noble hues in the entire world!
Only the most embellished of laced bows and bows!
"All these and so much, much more
(did I spend one full year trying to find)
just so I could decorate my bandwagon's every square inch
... Only the brightest paper stars and moons
were allowed to shine as part of my bandwagon!"
cried Cherubiko to the musicians there:
"Only the most dramatically burning make-believe candles
and fieriest real-enough sparklers that live.
Only the freshest blooming blossoms (I picked).
"Only the most dazzling confetti fountain ever
--and the most imposing of all springs, every last one of them
gushing over with only the tastiest tiny candy bits
ever yet tasted in the entire earth!
"And for its crowning glory," Cherubiko added then:
"The one to make my bandwagon the greatest and most spectacular ever
to parade in the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant parade?
Why, only the very best of the best musicians in the world
--and who else but you!?" he told the musicians
seated right there before him.
Yet, "It is just only a bandwagon, you know,"
remarked the First English horn musician, rather coolly
and equally unimpressed with Cherubiko's so very,
very hurt feelings, or flattery.
"It is not itself some chariot of stars and moons, you know!"
remarked the Second English horn musician even more coolly still
from the Second Chair in the row of seated English horn musicians.
"No, and it is not even the biggest float that I have ever laid eyes on, either!"
remarked the Third English horn musician (even chillier still)
from the Third Chair in the row of seated English horn musicians...
And so forth and so on, on down the full length of the row
of seated English horn musicians there
until the Seventy-Second English horn musician
(who was too stuck frozen to his chair to speak anything,
so he simply un-stuck his tongue out at poor warmed-over Cherubiko).
"In any case," complained the First French horn musician:
"I think it should have had a bit many more blue flowers!"
"Yes," complained the Second French horn musician then
from his chair, second in the row of seated French horn musicians:
"And it could have also used a lot more pink,
and some orange, laced bows!"
"And all of a much, much deeper pink, with a sheenier, sheenier orange,
I think," complained then the Third French horn musician from his chair
behind the chair of the Second French horn musician.
"Why, it scarcely has any bells, bubbles or balloons on it at all!"
bickered then the Fourth French horn musician from his chair
behind the chair of the Third French horn musician...
And so forth and so on, on down the long, long row (or column)
of French horn musicians, until the Seventy-Second French horn musician,
who was heard squeaking about just
how round the wheels on Cherubiko's bandwagon might really be.
"Well," claimed the First Tuba musician from his chair:
"I wouldn't ride on an ugly thing like that even if I were invited!"
"Well," claimed the Second Tuba musician from his chair
behind the First Tuba musician's chair:
"I wouldn't ride on it for money!"
"Well, I wouldn't ride on it," claimed next the Third Tuba musician,
"if it was my last ride on earth!" from his chair
in the row of seated tuba musicians...
And so forth and so on all the way down to the Seventy-Second
Tuba musician, who just rumbled a mite (and made everyone feel
too embarrassed to claim much else).
"Sorry," the First Tom-Tom musician unexpectedly told poor sad Cherubiko,
after so many of the many and many musicians there
had spoken as horribly as they all had about his bandwagon
(perhaps wanting to make sure that Cherubiko understood
that it wasn't anything personal): "But, you didn't really expect
any of us here to actually ride on a 'thing' as ugly
and as poorly-made as that, now did you!?"
Then the Second Tom-Tom musician, seated behind the First
Tom-Tom musician's chair, also told Cherubiko: "Sorry, but,
really, who could possibly win any kind of a prize
riding in a hideous doohickey like that one?!"
"No!" then the Third Tom-Tom musician told him
from his chair behind the chair of the Second Tom-Tom musician:
"Why, one couldn't even win Last Prize riding in something like that!"
And, from his chair behind the Third Tom-Tom musician's chair,
the Fourth Tom-Tom musician told Cherubiko:
"Why, they'd probably throw us all right out of the parade,
riding on a pitiful float like yours! No way!
Not even the very worst musicians on earth
would be caught dead in that thing!"
"I'll say!" the Fourth Tom-Tom musician also told Cherubiko,
from his chair behind the chair of the Third Tom-Tom musician.
"Not even a Forty Seventh Tom-Tom musician,"
the Fifth Tom-Tom musician told him, "or even a Sixty-Eighth,
or a Five-Hundredth and Ninety-Third Tom-Tom musician even
(if such musicians there were)... No sir!" ...
And so forth and so on all up and down the row
of seated Tom-Tom musicians (the same way
as with all of the other seated musicians there
on all of the other different instruments' rows or columns of musicians)
all the way down to the Seventy-Second Tom-Tom musician,
who, when his turn came to speak up about things,
told Cherubiko simply:
"Sir, your bandwagon is unquestionably and most definitely
(without even the slightest shade of a doubt in the entire universe)
THE worst and most atrocious bandwagon
that has ever, ever, ever been made!"
Ah! Poor Cherubiko was really, really saddened
when he was told this repeatedly (so many, many, many times):
He had worked so hard on that bandwagon
--and for so many and many, many months AND months (a year even).
He just couldn't understand it, either: Until that very moment,
everyone who had ever even so much as peeked at it
had thought it such a marvelous bandwagon.
Yet here were the best musicians on earth
(and even some of the worst ones of them, down at every tail end
of each column, or row) now telling him just how awful it looked to them.
It made Cherubiko himself feel rather as horrible
about his own bandwagon as he had been proud of it before.
And, do you want to know something really, really strange?
Suddenly that once so very marvelous-looking bandwagon of his
started looking just awful (to him) then, "Oh!" how awful indeed
--that his once marvelous bandwagon should now look to him
like some slapdash piece of smelly old garbage
someone might have slapped together out of
rotten, stinking potato peels (or things worse): "My gosh!"
So, poor Cherubiko lowered his head in shame and embarrassment.
And, with one great big effort, he climbed back up into
his (now perhaps not so marvelous
after all) throwaway lousy old bandwagon.
He was just about to drive it away (to the junk yard probably),
when... at last every musician in the line of triangle musicians
(only then making their way out of the Great Hall of The Musicians)
finally finished taking his (or her) seat, down at the Seventy-Second Chair's
tail end of the row (or column) of triangle musicians.
"Oh!" exclaimed the First Triangle musician (who had not heard
even a note of all the other musicians' ongoing abuse
against Cherubiko's once marvelous bandwagon)
suddenly shouting: "Oh! Oh!
Oh, what a marvelous bandwagon that is!"
"Yes!" suddenly shouted the Second Triangle musician then,
seconding the First Triangle musician from his chair
behind the First Triangle musician's chair:
"It is a most marvelous bandwagon indeed!"
"Why," shouted the Third Triangle musician then from his chair
behind the Second Triangle musician's chair (as suddenly): "It is
the very best bandwagon that I have ever seen in my whole life!"
After which, as suddenly: "Unquestionably THE very, very best
of them ever!" shouted the Fourth Triangle musician too
from his chair behind the Third Triangle musician's chair
And, "No more marvelous bandwagon has ever come before us
before!" shouted (as suddenly) the Fifth Triangle musician
trying to best the Fourth Triangle musician (in his praise
of Cherubiko's apparently once again Marvelous Bandwagon)...
And so forth and so on until the Seventy-Second Triangle musician,
his or her chair at the very, very tail end of the row
(or column) of triangle musicians, suddenly rang out:
"It is the best of the very best of the best of the very best--!"
And he (or she) would have kept up his (or her) ringing praises
of Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon perhaps forever, except
that somebody hushed him (or her)... with a finger.
Now, suddenly, there was stunned silence
amongst and along all of the other rows and rows (or columns and columns)
of musicians seated there, as they all now took... another look at it.
Now, could all the musicians on earth except for the triangle musicians
have possibly been so wrong about Cherubiko's bandwagon?!
Or was it perhaps that all of the triangle musicians on earth
were mistaken about it now?!
But, if all the musicians there were surprised and shocked,
boy, there was nothing but unspeakable chaos in poor Cherubiko's thoughts:
He didn't know what to make of it--or even what to think
Should he now drive away his bandwagon quickly
(and probably miss the praise he had gone there to collect
in the first place... from the best musicians on earth)?
Or should he stay and possibly risk more abuse from them?
"Gosh!" Most of the musicians had spoken so awfully
about his bandwagon, that Cherubiko couldn't see
how they might possibly change their minds now
(about something they had thought so bad).
Yet here was the First Triangle musician now
(as respected a First Chair musician as any musician on earth)
speaking so nicely about it... all over again.
Then the Second Triangle musician seated right there behind him
as well, and the Third Triangle musician even better then...
And so forth and so on, all through the column (or row)
of seated triangle musicians, all the way
down to the Seventy-Second Triangle musician himself (or herself),
who, when his (or her) turn came around to praise Cherubiko's bandwagon,
rang out a second full round of yet more ringing praise:
"It is unquestionably and most definitely, without even the slightest
shade of a doubt on earth," he (or she) rang out, "the One Great
(and most marvelous) bandwagon ever yet made!"
throwing every one of all of the other musicians there into total shock,
since none of them had ever expected such lively and richly ringing praises
for something which they had all judged to be so dead.
"Heavens!" Some of the musicians there even wept openly
over this sudden discord among themselves
(for up to then in all of the history of the Great Hall of The Musicians
they had--all of them--always been in such perfect harmony
So, no doubt about it, now--This was a definite sour note!
Or, was it? Quickly the First Violin musician removed his glasses,
and, after very carefully cleaning them (and placing them
back on his head), he told Cherubiko:
"It's not as bad as it looked at first."
"I agree," the Second Violin musician said,
as quickly: "It has its charms."
"Yes, definitely," said quicker still the Third Violin musician
also: "It is positively charming, in its own way."
Naturally, the Fourth Violin musician now also tried his best
to best the Third Violin musician even more quickly yet
at saying something nice as well...
And so forth and so on, quicker still
all the way up and down the row of seated violin musicians
until the Seventy-Second Violin musician, who
said something at once so warm and heartbreakingly nice
that it almost immediately won over even the most cold-hearted musicians
there (that might have still been stubbornly opposed to
Cherubiko's once again so very, very Marvelous Bandwagon).
"Now that I look at it," said the First Bagpipe musician,
taking his time with it: "I like it too."
"I like it a lot!" the Second Bagpipe musician
also eventually joined in.
"I think it is unquestionably, undeniably THE very best thing
I have ever liked!" then the Third Bagpipe musician joined in eventually.
"I positively love it," the First Cello musician was suddenly raving
about Cherubiko's Marvelous Bandwagon.
"I have never loved anything worse--I mean, better!"
the Second Cello musician was soon raving as well!
* * *
"My boy," cried out the First Saxophone musician then
to Cherubiko excitedly: "Congratulations! It is the very best bandwagon
any of us here has ever seen ever in the entire earth (or elsewhere)."
"Congratulations!" said the Second Saxophone musician,
even more excitedly still: "With the very best of us riding
in that marvelous bandwagon of yours, my boy,
we are a cinch to win any First Prize!"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" agreed the Third Saxophone musician:
"Whoever rides in your bandwagon
will most definitely deserve to get First Prize!"
Instantly: "That ought to be me," then said the First Concertina
musician (not all that unexpectedly): "Señor Cherubiko,
might I have the great honor
of riding in your so marvelous Marvelous Bandwagon?"
"Would you honor me instead, Señor Cherubiko," pleaded
the Second Concertina musician, "by picking me to ride in it?"
"I would consider it the greatest honor in my life,"
said the First Viola musician next, "if you were to pick me
to ride in your marvelous bandwagon."
"I would consider it an even greater honor still,"
said the Second Viola musician after him.
Suddenly it began to go like that up and down every one of the rows
(or columns) of all of the musicians seated there:
From the very First Chair in each row (or column)
down to the very last chair at the tail end of each row
(in each Seventy-Second Chair in each row, or column, of musicians
seated there) all of whom were suddenly begging him
(every last one of them, and at the same time) to be picked
to parade in the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant parade
... in Cherubiko's bandwagon.
This even included all the musicians who just moments before
had thought his bandwagon such a rinky-dink throwaway doohickey
slapped together out of rotten potato peels or things worse--even!
"Wow!" thought Cherubiko,
amid the deafening din rising and rising there now,
as he tried to decide exactly which musicians he should give the nod to:
Maybe the First Chair musician in every row?
Wouldn't that ensure that he got only the best
of the very best musicians there?
But what if... none of them really and truly
believed that his bandwagon was as good as they were all now
telling him it was and every one of those noisy musicians
was asking to ride on his bandwagon
only in order to keep some other musician off.
For, Cherubiko had begun having second thoughts now;
and now he was wondering whether they were, all of them,
only holding on to their chairs (as strongly as they all were)
just to keep some maybe much better musician
from taking the chair he (or she) deserved.
And, good grief, all that terribly noisy discord
the musicians were then making! It confused Cherubiko so much
that he couldn't even tell any longer whether any of them
were even good musicians at all!
So, on the eve of his greatest victory
on the morning of the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant,
Cherubiko turned his bandwagon around, and
(without saying another word) drove it off
--altogether away from the Great Hall of The Musicians
... without giving a ride to any of the musicians seated there
... best or worst of them even, and not even
any of the triangle musicians who had first started the ball rolling
the way of his once again marvelous bandwagon!
* * *
Just don't assume for a moment
that Cherubiko simply went home that day
and forgot all about the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant
Later that day,
Cherubiko still entered his Marvelous Bandwagon in the pageant.
You see, as soon as he got out of there,
Cherubiko headed straight back to where he had once shooed away
all of the old singing and dancing dogs and cats of his neighborhood,
and he picked them all up (every last one of them
that he came across) all yet still yapping and snapping,
chanting and thumping and crooning and yelping and whooping
... all of them yet still even then singing and dancing together like that:
all praises to, and glory of--to them--ever and always
their old friend Cherubiko's
Marvelous Bandwagon (straight from each one of their hearts).
With all of their natural squalling and squealing,
and whistling, warbling, and mewing,
and bellowing and roaring tongues
(they all wanted so much to let everyone know
their enthusiasm for it), the Good Friends then went off
to parade the full length of the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant parade
together ... all of them wagging and jumping and yapping
all the way, and otherwise just plainly sounding off.
So filled with genuine love for their Cherubiko's
Marvelous Bandwagon were they that day,
that they even started feeling as if they themselves were indeed
the best musicians on earth!
* * *
You know something, riding in that Grand
Carnival of Music Pageant parade of theirs that day,
all those great friends together really did prove they were
the best musicians on earth
(Cherubiko could have and should have gotten to parade with him
and his Marvelous Bandwagon in the first place).
But, as if you didn't already know, in the end, together,
they all came in first place, and took First Prize!
Well, naturally, what with THE most Marvelous Bandwagon ever
to grace the Grand Carnival of Music Pageant parade,
AND with the very best musicians on earth
... could their pageant really have turn out any other way
--than the right one?
What do you think?