The DanceIt was noon in the village of Laifftesjot, and the villagers were at their work, when they heard music coming in from the distance: fast dance music, with pipes and horns and strings. A farmer dropped his plow, a spinnstress left her wheel, a smith set down his hammer, a huntress put down her bow. The musicians stood at the center of the village, and people in their cottages opened their windows to peer out and see what was happening, and saw that they were dressed in dark, glimmering metalic robes that nearly completely covered them, like priests, and they saw the dancers dancing merrily away around them. A father turned to his daughter:
“It looks like the priests have come to put on music for us. It’s not very often that this happens. Why don’t we go?”
The daughter replied:
“Everyone is just leaving their work to go dance. That’s not very re-spon-si-ble. You shouldn’t.” She paused. “Also, I find it a bit su-spi-cious.”
The ImmigrantsA car, broken down at midnight, on the side of the highway? Well, that’s a great way to get robbed or worse. As I rode I examined the car and saw that it had a lisence plate and did not have any lights on top. Yes, yes…
“Andrei, I think we should stop and look at it.” I subtly felt for the handgun in my right pocket.
“You know what would happen if we get caught, Natalya.” He snickered as we pullled our beat-up SUV over.
It looked like an old muscle car, it was a miracle it even ran in the first place. The windows were darker than what the law allowed.
I felt for my gun again, then opened the door to get out.
That car’s driver-side door opened. A giant of a man with sunglasses rose out.
“Thank you for arriving. There was someone following behind us for miles when our car broke down. Thankfully they got lost, but they could be here any moment now.”
“Yes, I am surprised they are not already,” I said and gave out a low chuck
The Right to Happiness (Son of the Muses)Durch Feld und Wald zu schweifen,
Mein Liedchen wegzupfeifen,
So geht’s von Ort zu Ort,
So geht’s von Ort zu Ort…
“What are you singing? Is that German?” a policeman barked at me. I only then realized that I had been singing, and not only singing but skipping as well.
“Well, yes, I’m happy, that makes me want to sing and skip along. Yes, that is German, it happens to be the happiest song I know.”
“Well, you don’t have the right to sing that. You must sing ‘the Happy Song’ instead.”
“But ‘the Happy Song’ doesn’t actually sound happy. How about I meet you halfway and sing ‘Zip-i-dee-do-dah’?”
“That is my point, and that is much less than halfway.”
“Well, I have a right to happiness, so I think I’ll go on skipping along singing ‘Der Musensohn’.”
Und nach dem Takte reget
Und nach dem Maß beweget
Sich alles an mir fort…