Tuba Lessons and Cold Air Intakes

When I was 6 years old, I started taking tuba lessons.violence would probably get my parents'
Not by choice of course.attention…
My parents had read an article about someJust then, I noticed my teacher's Lamborghini Diablo
super-baby who joined college at the age of 6 and atsitting in the driveway. (Evidently Tuba instructors are
the age of 7 became a renowned astrophysicist. Theyraking it in.)The car had just had an amazing new cold
figured that ol' junior could use some mentalair intake system put in and it was ready to race. No
development as well. They probably went a littletime to hesitate, I told myself. It's now or never.
overboard. First they got me a language tutor, then aI threw my tuba aside and jumped into the car.
chess instructor and then they even started to playThe engine roared, and suddenly I was off, tearing
Mozart during dinner time! Finally came the tubadown the street at 150 mph. I couldn't really see over
lessons.the wheel to where I was going but that didn't
At first it was fun. The instrument was almost as bigmatter-speed was the most important thing at that
as I was, and I loved blasting into it until I fell from thepoint. I slowed down later, driving over people's lawns
chair unconscious. But my tuba instructor didn't takeand making my way toward the coast. I felt great.
kindly to my random noises. He held tuba playing to beAs I headed toward the ocean, I had to drive along the
a sacred art, one worthy of the utmost respect.edges of some cliffs, and that's where I got into
Every Saturday morning he would come to my housetrouble. While trying to make a fast turn, I lost control
with a bundle of papers - sheet music and scales thatand the car spun off the road and over a cliff. I fell a
he would make me practice endlessly. Before I began,thousand feet into a ravine and the car exploded into
he would pull out an old hourglass, give me a sternan enormous fireball. Luckily, the force of the blast
look, and then tip it over. If I made too many mistakesejected me from the car and flung me back up to the
in a row, he would grunt and start the hourglass againtop of the ravine where I lay unscathed.
from the beginning. It was torture. One Saturday, I hadI made the 11pm news. The authorities described me
to play hot cross buns for two straight hours!as a 'precocious miscreant'. I told the cops that my
My mind grew numb over time and I only wanted toteacher asked me to destroy the car for insurance
escape. One day, I asked to be excused to empty mypurposes. They promptly arrested him and gave him a
spit valve and tried to think of a plan. There was nolife sentence. Problem solved!
way I was going back in to face that hourglass. ButSure, my parents yelled at me for a couple of hours,
what could be done?but I think they were secretly proud that I had been
I could rush my teacher, ram the tuba over his headcalled 'precocious'.
and then make my escape, but the sound of this