"You're going to be splendid, Mogey," Smush told his nervous pal as he straightened the ruffles around Mogey's neck. "This is the day you show everyone what you've got."
Mogey nodded shakily. Sixteen times he'd tried out to be the King's personal trumpeter and sixteen times he'd failed, but today was going to be different.
"Royal trumpeter hopefuls, assemble!" cried the King's music director. After giving Mogey a fist-pound for good luck, Smush went outside to the castle courtyard so that he'd have a good view of the tryouts.
Moments later, the music director marched a dozen hopefuls onto the stage to a smattering of applause and a single rotten cabbage lobbed by an overeager youth.
"Please!" the music director hollered. "Hold your applause AND your rotten cabbages until all the hopefuls have tried out!"
Of the twelve trumpeters trying out, Mogey looked by far the most regal. He was dapper in brand new pantaloons, clogs, and a starched leather vest. When the King arrived, all the hopefuls bowed, but Mogey bowed lowest of all.
The King inspected the ankles and hairdos of the prospective trumpeters and, finding most of them to his liking, proceeded to the trumpeting portion of the competition. As the hopefuls auditioned, Smush saw Mogey getting more unsettled with each new trumpeter that went, until finally it was his turn.
"You, my good man," the King addressed Mogey. "Play me 'Hot Cross Buns.'"
Mogey nodded, but rather than pulling out his trumpet he proceeded to extract an eclair from his pocket. Seeming not to notice his mistake, he blew several times into the pastry, showering the shocked-looking King's robes with custard.
"Not again!" groaned Smush.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment