By The Horns

This is one of my favorite short stories...one of those things I was thinking about in traffic, and out this came. Wouldn't it be nice if short stories or poems came out of everyone's mouths instead of the swear words that really do?

This one is being held on to by the The Lighthouse Writers, here in Denver. I have no idea what that actually means, but at the very least, they liked it.


By the Horns
By Kelly Hayes



“So. That’s it then.”
“Yes, that’s it. Please get your things together and vacate the office by 5 this afternoon.”
Tom Reynolds left the principal’s office with his head lifted. In his own office he collected into a box his dog’s picture, a Moody Blues poster, piles of sheet music and his violin. Tom left his lesson plan open on the desk for the next unsuspecting teacher and shut the door behind him.
Sitting on the interstate crawling along at a sloth’s pace, Tom thought about the last year, the promises made and failed, the lives left unscathed by anything he could do, say or play. He’d bought into the age old myth put out in large part by Hollywood that music moves young inner city kids to do amazing things. The only one moved was him, out of a job.
Traffic was at a standstill. Someone behind him honked.
What was with these kids today, didn’t they watch TV? Hadn’t they seen enough movies that told them exactly where they were headed? Of course, society could only blame TV and movies when something extraordinarily bad happened, not the normal, consistent, day-to-day bad. Why weren’t they blamed when something good happened, when a kid was inspired by a hero on TV to do something with his life? Did that ever really happen?
Someone in front of him beeped.
Why was he blamed for trying to be an inspiration? For trying to push them? For trying? Maybe he’d call up Fred and see about going in with him on that condo in the Rockies. Buy up a years worth of canned beans and peaches and merrily toot his way through a quiet mountain man life. The bears would surely appreciate his Bach.
Someone to the right of him blaaaaated.
Ah, what the heck. Tom honked, and honked again.
The man two behind him – toot toot.
Tom sat up straight in his seat. Honk honk. He listened.
Teen three to the back left - beep.
Man five up – boop boop.
“We’ve got Strauss!!” He hooooooooooooooooooooonked loud and clear as he hopped out of the door.
“Ok folks! Watch me for your cue!” he honk honked and pointed to the man next to him telling him to honk once.
“Cue this!” The man yelled back with the finger.
Tom tried again, he honk honked, then pointed to the lady on the other side to honk once. Beep.
Tom grinned and bowed to her then pointed to the man two behind him, holding up two fingers. The man toooooooooooooooooooted instead. “Get back in your car you nut job!”
But Tom would not be pushed out this time, until he had done what he wanted to do. He wanted to move people, and he would. He honk honked, pointed to the kind lady beside him to honk once more – beep – and then to the man in front of him, signaling for two.
Watching in the rear view mirror, the man shrugged, blat blat. Tom again, honk honk, to the lady beside him again holding up two, beep beep. To the man three to the right, toot toot, past the jerk swearing at him to four to the back left, bop. Two over to the right, honk honk, and over one more - beep beep, two behind her, blat blat. Cheers rang out from all sorts of cars, horn symphonic participants and others.
“Let’s try it again folks!!” Tom yelled.
Honk Honk
Beep
Blat Blat
Honk Honk
Beep Beep
Toot Toot
Bop
Honk Honk
Beep Beep
Blat Blat

The crowd went wild. Even the unenthused were silenced in the honking cacophony and screams that ensued. Tom bowed, and bowed and bowed again. And when the traffic started moving again, he drove home to tell his dog about his fantastic day.