Well-Tempered Clavicle Read Online Free PDF

Picka almost wished he were alive, knowing that the way the women’s skirts flared as they twirled, almost (but not quite) showing their panties would have thrilled him. But he wasn’t, so they didn’t. He was also impressed by how similar the two sisters were, other than one being bright and the other dark. They were of the same height and fleshly girth, with hair of similar length, and well-formed features. Stripped of the ponderous flesh, their bones would have been almost identical.
    “She’s right,” Joy’nt murmured. “Two musicians do make for a better dance.”
    Even the three animals seemed impressed. They were all listening and watching.
    The dance ended. Eve faced Picka. “Why don’t you join us for the next one?” she asked.
    Join them? “I’m not musical,” he reminded her.
    “That’s what you think. Music is your talent.”
    He laughed, thinking she was making a funny. “What, clanking my bones?”
    “Yes.”
    This was becoming less funny. “It’s not nice to tease folk,” he said.
    Eve walked to him. “This way. First remove your shoulder bones.”
    “My clavicles? I need them to move my shoulders.” He shrugged, demonstrating.
    “No, you are special, Picka. You can spare those particular bones. Like this.” She put her hand on his right shoulder, grasped his clavicle, and lifted it away from his body.
    Picka was so surprised he just stood there. He had had no idea that the bone could come off.
    “And then you use it to play a melody on your own ribs,” she continued. “They are musical too.” She demonstrated, tapping a rib with the bone. It made a fine clear note.
    Again, he was too surprised to react.
    “You have more than an octave,” she continued, tapping all his ribs in turn to produce eight or nine different notes. “And the half tone on the other side. Your other clavicle has a different quality, and each end differs, so you can play different types of melodies. You can surely do overtones too. Try it.” She handed him his clavicle.
    Picka took it and tapped one of his ribs. It made a clear ringing sound. He was amazed anew.
    “Try a melody,” Eve said.
    He tried to play a simple tune. Instead he got a series of wrong notes. Dawn put her hands over her ears.
    “It may take a little practice,” Eve said.
    “A lot of practice,” Joy’nt said, wincing.
    “But we can get you started with something simple,” Eve said. “Like maybe ‘Chopsticks’.” She lifted off his left clavicle and took back his right one. Then she used them together, striking two notes at a time in rapid order, repeatedly. From this series emerged a certain awkward melody. “Perfect that, then move on to more advanced pieces,” she advised, handing him his clavicles. “You’ll get there, in time.”
    “A long time,” Joy’nt muttered.
    Picka tried it. To his amazement he was able to duplicate the tune, and it sounded all right.
    “See?” Eve said. “You catch on quickly. It’s your talent. You can probably play any melody you hear. Try the one I just used for the dance.”
    Picka was dubious, but he tried. And the melody came out perfectly. The couples started dancing again.
    In a moment Eve joined in with her panpipes. Then Dawn played her ocarina. Suddenly they had a three-instrument melody, and it was absolutely beautiful. The dancers danced brilliantly, with more verve than before. The twirls were more vigorous, and the skirts flared up so high that eight panties flashed in perfect unison. Picka was not a panty-gazing male, because panties only emphasized those lugubrious mounds of flesh, but the motions were such that the outlines of the underlying pelvis bones were clear, and that made him stare.
    The melody came to an end, all three players synchronized. The dancers applauded. It had been a fine melody and a fine dance.
    “And there you are,” Eve said. “You have the potential to be a fine musician, Picka, rather than being a duffer like Dawn and me. Your magic not only