It all began with a warped and rain soaked pipe organ.    Annie can never be happy with the amount of money she generates from the poop factory, but that is because she spends money faster than she can make it.   Her constant need for money and things, forces her to get creative with bringing in a second, third or fourth income.   That is where the pipe organ came in.

Since school had ended for the summer the Annie’s had time, not that Annie Jr. or Annie were going,    Yes Annie was still enrolled in several institutions of higher learning.    Sometimes, she went with K8, or Abe, or Bryan; occasionally the class where her Aunt Dinyell taught.   Actually she spent more time trying to get out of going to any of the classes she was enrolled in than actually going, and passing that trait on to Annie Jr.   So the whole pipe organ dilemma was quite ironic.

With no actual classes, Annie continued on with her role of running a junk yard, which meant she donned a pair of suspenders, adapted a wobbly walk and sat in the back yard with Duh-Wayne watching re-runs of the Edge of Night some old soap opera from the 70s.   Annie Jr. with his fake side burns and beard drove around the neighborhood picking up junk and loading it onto the back of his old red truck, while loud wild harmonica music pulsated from the speakers of his truck.

One day Annie Jr. carted home an old pipe organ.   Annie Jr. hauled it out of an old church on the North Side that had caved in back in ’42.  It was rain soaked, housed a family of Pakistanis  mice who were refuges from Mexico (all of them were terrified of ice even hearing it clink in a glass caused fear) and it smelled like moldy incense and church wine that turned to vinegar.

Annie of course was in awe because she loved playing any sort of instrument; badly.   She had her favorites; like her fiddle and the old bed springs but she had never had a pipe organ.     Annie pressed one of the organ’s keys and a puff of old dust honked out of one of the pipes.   Annie pressed another one and another putting her ear towards it like she knew something about it’s tune.   After a moment she was hitting the keys rapidly, while the organ sounded like a wounded intoxicated moose.

“I didn’t know you could play a pipe organ, Annie,” said Duh-Wayne.

“I can play anything.” Annie said. “My real mother, not ya know,” she glared at me nodded in my direction, “was a musical genius. I went to college with her.”
Annie closed her eyes and sighed. She pressed down on one key and it kept letting out this one note in a long drone. It went on for several minutes and then Annie sat up and opened her eyes then released the key. “Yep my Mom was a musical genius and I was better. I rocked that slide whistle and tambourine.”
Duh-Wayne’s eyes got big and he looked excited. “You know Annie,” Duh-Wayne began, “With your talent and your patience you could generate a lot of money teaching music lessons. ”

So that was how Annie became a music teacher and not just on the pipe organ but many other noise makers.   Her fiddle, which she played with a scratchy nails on the board sort of way and she jigged around while she did  so making sure her hips swiveled as she jigged.   Her bed springs which she plucked, her kazoo, an old police whistle which she often blew into her phone the second I answered her call and said hello.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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