The Triangle

Part 1
A lot of people have the mistaken impression that the triangle is the easiest instrument to play in an orchestra.

Well, that’s just not true. Actually, the triangle is the most difficult of all instruments to play.  That’s why I was selected to play it in the Plant City Fill Harmonica Orchestra.

You see, any other instrument you play, you hold it firmly in your hand, so that you always know where it is. Not so with the triangle.  You hold it while it dangles from a string.
It takes years of training (if you count the day you were born) to master the art of holding that string just so.
So there I was.  My part in the whole entire evening of orchardly – or kestrally --- whatever, my whole part came down to one critical moment in the entire composition, when at precisely, exactly the right instant, I was to strike that triangle with that little shiny thingy that they give you to hit it with.
The conductor (I never figured out why they called him that.  He never collected anybody’s ticket.  But I digest.)  the guy with the white stick had told me that I had the most important part of the entire piece (actually, the whole thing), even though it was only one ding in the entire evening.

So there I was, awaiting my moment of glory.  Finally, the moment drew near, and I prepared for my grand finale.  I held that string in my left hand, and the little shiny thingy in my right hand.

But wouldn’t you know, just as I started to swing that little hitter, a slight breeze of air turned that triangle ninety degrees.  Seeing that it was about to leave the strike zone, I figured I’d better hurry up and speed up my swing so that I could smack it before it got entirely out of range. So I swung really hard.

Too late.  That sneaky little devil got plumb past my little shiny thing, and I missed.  But worst of all, I had swung so hard that in doing so, I fell off my chair.

Undaunted, I decided that after all that training and practice, I was here to play that rascal, and by golly, nothing was going to stop me.  So I grabbed it in my fist, not realizing that that would muffle its ding. There was no time for confiscation, however, I had to act without thinking, which I am good at.

So I slammed that little three-sider up against the chair as hard as I could.  Unfortunately, this also went wrong (why do I have such bad luck), as it was the violinist’s chair, and he went flying too.

Now you may think that this was a total fiasco, but it wasn’t.

My cousin was in the audience, and he quickly noticed that not only was I in some kind of circumstance, but that I was probably going to be unfairly blamed for the whole thing, when it was all the fault of that breeze.

So my cousin came to the rescue.  He did the only thing anyone could have done.  He pulled out his pistol and fired a bullet into the ceiling.  The idea was that later on, I could say that I had seen a gun being drawn, and that I had heroically created a distraction, thereby saving many lives while the audience wrestled the gunman to the ground.

Unfortunately for my cousin, in real life, nobody rassles gunmen to the ground.  That’s just something that the anti-gun-nuts who report the news make up.

In reality, they shoot him. And that’s what happened to my poor late cousin.  Purty much everybody in the audience was packin, and I think it was that dang fake conductor who got in the first shot.

Innyway, his death was not in vain.  Well, okay, it was, because when I tried to convince the judge that I was being heroic, he just laft at me and said I wuz skeert of my own shadow.  And then he had the poor manners to prove it.

Then, after I had finished up my three years in jail (including the two for bad behavior), I wuz not able to resume my career as a professional triangle player.

But I’m still practicing.

Part 2
Biography of Robertus Arvayus
Robertus Arvayus is a world famous (at least in Plant City) musician and composer, and is a member of the Plant City Fill Harmonica Orchestra and Tow Truck Service.
Arvayus plays the very difficult instrument, the Triangle, which is a metallic percussion device consisting of an equilateral triangle, unconnected at one corner.   Arvayus affectionately refers to it as the Triangle of Death.
Arvayus has composed several musical compositions which can be played on his triangle.  All of them consist of one note, and all of them are the same note.  However, each has its own separate unique inspiration which Arvayus conveys to an admiring audience in his own inimitable style.
Arvayus first became interested in the triangle at an early age while reading a magazine article about the Bermuda Triangle.  That humble beginning led to his career as the world’s foremost professional triangle player, or as he refers to himself, a triangulator.
Arvayus’s passion for the triangle soon led him to a rigorous schedule of daily practice.  Arising early each day before noon, Arvayus’s devotion compelled him to spend four seconds each day striking his triangle once with a little shiny thingy.
“One must carefully avoid overdoing the practice,” Arvayus explains.  “Too much can result in artistic staleness.”
In a recent concert attended by his many admirers (both of them), Arvayus drew a standing ovation after playing his most recent composition, “The Ding.”
Or maybe they were just getting up to leave, but all the same.

Part 3
I, Robertus Arvayus, the world famous (in Plant City) musical artist, recently enjoyed a brief resurgence in my symphonic career.
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As my many fans (both of them) are aware, at least when they are sober, I am the most accomplished Triangle player and triangle composer ever to have mastered this most difficult and subtle of all musical instruments.
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Sudden misfortune befell me recently, when I fell off my chair, at the crucial moment of my single note, during a carefully rehearsed rendition of some famous or kestrel piece.  It was only a piece, because the orchestra never got to finish the whole thing, due to some gunfire that was entirely not my own fault, and during which the conductor killed my poor cousin who was only trying to help.
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Anyway, that’s all in the past now, and life goes on, except of course for my cousin.
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So after I got out of jail, I resumed my daily regimen of practice on the triangle, hoping against hope that one day soon, I might be permitted a second chance at redemption to redeem myself.
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The opportunity came from an unexpected quarter, which I found on the sidewalk.  I used it to buy a copy of the prestigious newspaper, The Times of London (Plant City Edition), which costs only a quarter.
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There, on the front page, was an article about the world famous (in Plant City) Plant City Fill Harmonica Orchestra and Tow Truck Service.
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The conductor (who also works for AmTrack) was seeking to upgrade the orchestra by attracting world class recognition for the orchestra.  However, he had failed to attract any serious attention from the snooty European Phil Harmonica orchestras, who can’t even spell Fill correctly.
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I decided to write a letter to one of those whoopty doos in Europe and invite them for a listen audition.
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To my amazement, one of them responded!  He was some kind of Lord or Baron or whatever, and he was interested in developing talent from what he kindly referred to as the unwashed masses.  And even though we wash every week whether we need to or not, he agreed that we were not too clean for him to deal with.
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So I showed this letter to the guy who killed my cousin, and he said that I would now be readmitted on a probationary basis to the orchestra as a triangulator and tow truck assistant.
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I quickly agreed, and we got this snooty European orchestra dude on Skype for a conference.
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For awhile, everything was going well.  He asked us what we knew about classical music.  And since I had a cheat sheet in front of me, where he could not see it, I had him totally fooled for a few minutes.
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But then misfortune struck.  The Euro dude asked me what was my favorite symphonic classical composition, and I answered truthfully.  I said, “The Lone Ranger.”
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Let me tell you, those Euro dudes have no appreciation of the Wild West.
He hung up on us.
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Well, wouldn’t you know, that homicidal maniac that calls hisself a conductor got all into a hissy fit, and fired me on the spot.
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However, he still does let me go on towing calls as an assistant, so long as I promise to leave my Stradivarius triangle at home.
I know it’s a Stradivarius because the guy in the alley who sold it to me seemed like an honest feller.
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Oops.  Gotta go now.  Tow truck just pulled up.