Page 9 - Fables volume 1
P. 9

How the Frog Orchestra Lost its Third Alto



         Toward midnight the musicians took a break and helped themselves
       to  the  buffet  of  small  winged  insects  attracted  to  the  full  moon’s
       reflection  in  the  flooded  padi.  Kodok  Besar,  leader  of  the  all-bull
       orchestra,  took  his  fill  and  sat  back  on  a  moldering  pandanas-leaf
       offering placed on the footpath earlier in the day by a farmer’s wife.
       The  villagers  could  be  faintly  heard  pursuing  their  own  pleasure;
       Kodok recognized the gamelan piece played only after a tooth-filing
       and shuddered.
         How  could  humans  consider  themselves  superior  to  frogs?  he
       wondered. If some of their teeth are canine, then they ought to revere
       dogs as their ancestors instead of reviling the scruffy scavengers and
       altering their own dental profiles. Similarly—
         His thoughts were abbreviated by the arrival of a junior member of
       his  ensemble.  The  youngster,  not  more  than  two  seasons  from  the
       tadpole pond, leapt gracefully into the space in front of Kodok, but
       landed  in  a  heap,  his  immature  webbed  claws  unable  to  dig  deeply
       enough into the slippery black mud.
         “Kodok Besar! I must talk with you! I must!”
         “Then show some respect: get below my level.”
         “Oh. Excuse me.” The inferior amphibian hunkered down in the
       muck. “I am Eatabugus, new third alto in the orchestra.”
         “So?  It  doesn’t  sound  like  your  voice  is  anywhere  near changing.
       What is your problem? Not used to staying up late? Well, you’ll soon
       come  to  appreciate  the  benefits  of  being  up  and  about  after  the
       working fogs have called it quits, heh-heh-heh.”
         “No, Great Croaker, it’s not that. I want to talk to you about the
       repertoire.”
         Kodok Besar frowned at his musician. “Eh?”
         “I should say first that I really do enjoy being in your group. It’s a
       great experience for a composer to participate in performing.”
         “Composer! We frogs have no need of composers.”
         “Please  hear  me  out,  maestro.  I  grew  up  near  the  hut  where  the
       local gamelan practices in the afternoon. At first their music rang false
       to  my  delicate  ears—very  strange  and  discordant,  full  of  rigid
                                        8
   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14