I went to pick up Miss O today at "the Montessori," and when I entered the room, all the kidlets were sitting in a semicircle around some dude holding a guitar. He seemed fairly hip (black Converse high tops and sideburns, the slacker-dude-with-a-guitar-in-Montessori uniform) and for a moment I thought to myself, "Hey, that guy seems kinda cool. Maybe he'll be my friend some day."
Then he started playing. NO FRIEND! NO FRIEND! Shit, the dude blew. Not only was his singing horrendous, his fucking guitar sounded like carp. Miss O could have tuned the thing better than him. Better than he? It was a nylon string guitar and was tuned so low, it was like he was playing cooked spaghetti noodles... with his ass.
And he had those poor kids singing along with him. Some dumbass Arbor Day song, devoid of any sort of recognizable melody or rhythm. It made no sense at all, and he kept calling out for them to sing along. They had no idea what he was talking about. It was torture, bordering on child abuse! I felt like grabbing that guitar and smashing it over his sideburn-wearing head. How dare he sully the hipster sideburn! I'll bet those things were clip-ons!
The song was idiotic. Something like:
"Oh the trees they do stand so tall and strong,
And the leaves they flutter and the branches sway,
And I'm making this shit up as I go along,
And I'm probably a rhythm guitarist in a 'Nickelback' cover band,
C'MON KIDS, EVERYBODY!"
I rushed in, got all of Miss O's crap together and got her out of there, pronto. I tried to get some information out of her about who that clown was and what he was trying to pull.
I said, "So, who was that man in there playing the guitar?"
I tried again, "Was that someone's daddy playing the guitar?"
Then I asked Miss O why she wasn't answering any of my queries. She simply responsed, "Daddy, I don't feel like talking right now."
Of course, I couldn't blame her. She was just a witness to a horrible accident, like a train derailment or a multi-car pileup on a highway. She needed time to compartmentalize the horror she had just experienced. I gave her that time.
So, I turned on the radio, amazingly found Cheap Trick's "Surrender" on a classic rock station, and tuned it in. Then I heard Miss O proclaim from the back seat, "Turn it up, Daddy. I want to hear this song!"
She was going to be all right.