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The Singers (standard:drama, 5905 words)
Author: burkeAdded: Nov 11 2005Views/Reads: 1826/1070Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The inmates of heaven are tired of having nothing to do except to sing. They all want some changes made.
 



Barclay Thompson 

SINGERS 

10 pages, 3380 words 

"Peter, will you please do something about that singing!" 

Laying his pen aside Peter turned to his questioner. "Like what? A
different melody maybe?" 

"No! I meant make it stop! It's driving me nuts!" 

"But professor, you encourage them to sing. I agree though. It certainly
gets on one's nerves." 

The professor looked at the assembled singers, then turned to stare
angrily at Peter,  "I never encouraged them! And another thing: they're 
always here! They never go away! Make them go away!" 

Peter sighed, stretched as he stood up and consulted his computer. A
moment later he pointed to a number on the screen. "Professor, there 
are uncountable billions of people out there. The singing is so loud I 
could never make myself heard above the noise to tell them to stop." 

Looking at the numbers himself, the professor nodded in agreement.
Placing both hands over his ears he faced Peter and shouted. "Think of 
something because I'm getting a migraine from that damned noise! And 
another thing I don't understand is how this ever got started!" Then he 
wandered away over the singing crowd hoping that when they saw him 
covering his ears they might take the hint and SHUT UP! 

Taking a break from his work Peter checked his archives to refresh his
memory as to the origins of this compulsion of all arrivals to sing 
nonstop. Finally, after going back to the first page in his old 
hand-written journals he found an entry dated many millennia earlier. 
Looking in wonder at his own ancient writing he finally made out the 
names of the first arrivals. "That's funny; I don't recall those two 
guys." 

Writing the names on the back of his wrist Peter set off to find the
men. After a moment's thought he returned to his bench and dug out from 
under the table a bullhorn somebody had given him many years before. 
Switching it on, he gave it a try. "QUIET PLEASE!" It worked! 

Peter looked at the upturned faces staring at him in alarm. Some still
had their mouths open. The silence was wonderful. Then he heard the 
birds. He'd totally forgotten about them. Somebody called out; "Can we 
start singing again?" 

It took Peter several seconds to identify the questioner. "Why? Don't
you enjoy the peace and quiet?" 

The fellow looked uncomfortable. "Yes...I guess so. But we always sing,
sir." 

"Why do you sing?" Nobody answered. Peter looked from face to face. He
pointed to a woman. She was of medium height, attractive and about 
forty years of age. "Miss, why do you sing? Tell me, please?" 

She seemed embarrassed, having been selected from such a crowd of
people. "That's what we do. Everybody was doing it when I got here, so 
I thought that's all there was to do." 

Peter pointed to a young man. He was of medium height handsome and about
forty years of age. Which was not remarkable because everybody here fit 
that description. Age didn't matter: upon arrival everybody became 
fortysomething. Even babies, children and centenarians. Still pointing, 
Peter asked the man the same question. 

"Well sir, I sing because I want to." 

"I should know you!" Peter said. "What's your name?" 

The man smiled, "Caruso!" 


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