A Song in My Heart

Personally, said The BWK to herself as the sand dunes travelled backwards, one much like unto the other, I experience Joy as I wander the hills and dales of the open countryside with a Song in My Heart. The songs which arrive unbidden in myself, will choose themselves, but I do use some Greenmolar wireless ear guards and an musical randomiser programme from time immemorial, which is pleasant and engenders good feelings all around.

The Blue Woman Knight travelled along the dusty, with her entourage in tow. Ping! A notification announced itself on Floptin.

She reviewed the pics of intriguing signs and symbols, sent by her partner everlasting, extracted from the cave drawings. Perhaps, she thought, these layered meanings will guide me to the Eternal Song, which must play in all our hearts to bring us Joy.

First and foremost, I shall run the cave symbols through the decipheromat over there by the coffee machine and adjacent croissant dispenser. I might have a coffee and a croissant while I wait, as the fates allow.

She fed the pics into the slot provided and paid contactless with a banking chip placed in the tip of her gauntlet finger. The machine gobbled the pics and began a series of difficult noises. Gears whirling and clicking, whilst small echoes of coloured light leaked out of the coin slot and delivery chute. A wisp of white vapour escaped the machine housing.

 The BWK sat nearby with a croissant, dipping the pointy bit in her coffee and nibbling happily. Surely, she thought, this croissant is enough to bring all the requisite Joy, I shall add it to my list. Although, she reflected, a coffee éclair must surely rival.

Eventually the decipheromat spat a small ticket, out its shiny metal chute into the receptacle provided.

One ticket to a concert, written in fancy script with embossed embelishments and adorned all about with floral décor. The BWK retrieved before it could blow away and read. Thursday Night at the Great Big Hall, the Impossible Symphony Orchestra will play your requests and requisites.

I shall visit this orchestral concert with my ears, the Joy must be inside the hearing.

Thursday, the Blue Woman Knight, in full armour, special shining wax applied and sword sharpened to make a ceremonial point. A light cape flowing over one shoulder described her formal intentions and a squire twirling her flag in the face of all comers, went in the front.

The concert hall was made of pillars and space, an complex ceiling far above. What wasn’t marble, was covered in velvet with gold trimmings. An ice cream and caviar vendor stood at the end of each corridor, but the portions were too small to see and he had run out of wooden spoons. The crowd shouted at each other until the lights dimmed and the air became tense and sweet.

Soon or after a while, an orchestra, two penny whistles and a man with a drum, processed onto the dais and bowed forwards and left alone. Next there was an interlude with acrobats in long tights, then on the main course, Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, both in length and performers utilized. The piece, scored for soprano, alto, tenor and bass soloists, mixed chorus, piccolo, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, bass drum, cymbals, triangle, strings and spoons, made the BWK cry.

She listened intent till the end trumpet, wiping the tears from her visor with her gauntlet.

Well, that is a thing certainly fashioned of Joy, she said, although containing any amount of sadness also entwined. I shall gather my happy/sad tears in a vasty container for dispensation at a later date.

The Tears and Joy of the audience, upon being collected from the special tearproof floor of the auditorium, were so abundant that fleet of ships could sail thereon. Great vats of Satisfaction and Contentment were situated beyond the parking spaces in a special enclosure. Tanks, labelled with date and concert reference bar code stood in rows of six, or seven.

The BWK was asking around, the door man and caretakers who were very careful, who was in control of same and to what end were they were stored.

They are taken hence by motorised tankers, said the night watchwoman, in dead of night, no one knows where, no one.

The BWK lurked behind a handy pack. At the stroke of midnight a big tanker arrived with an armed escort sporting smoke grenades and multi guns. Tubes were attached and pumping was underway. The Blue Woman Knight rolled silently under the tanker and strapped herself to the underside.

The tanker travelled to the smartest, where all the money lived in houses made of cake, crystal and grass lawns. The tanker snaked a pipe out and delivered some Joy juice into the eternity pools of the rich folk.

The tankers of Joy visited another chateau and two grand estates, where more essence of Joy was added to the infinity pools.

So, thought the BWK, the rich and powerful are syphoning off the Happiness and Contentment of the concert going public. Thus widening the Contentment gap and unfairly utilising Joy which should be spread wide. I shall come about the undo of this unjust injustice, thought the BWK. I shall hijack the tankers to park in the central area and dispense Joy to the citizens of Az, the maternal city.