065. Guitar


"Why did you give him that?"

"It seemed like a good idea...It stopped him screaming, didn't it?"

"You don't think this is worse?"

"It’s not that bad, Lorrie."

At that moment the song began again from the start.

Folding her arms, Lorraine glared at him. "It isn't?"

George seemed at a loss for words, finally he opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the bedroom door was thrown back on its hinges.

"Mom! Dad! Can’t you make it stop?!" Dave whined, hands over his ears. "It’s horrible!"

"Hey now, that song’s one of the staples of American folk-singing," George protested.

Lorraine put her hands on her hips, while Dave just glared at him, meanwhile, the notes of the song continued on.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Linda ran into the room and took hold of Lorraine’s skirt. "Make Marty cut it out! It’s terrrrible!"

Lorraine patted her daughter's head.

So with his wife, daughter and eldest son glaring at him, George had to admit defeat.

"All right, all right...I’ll see what I can do..." George didn't rate his chances though. Heading down the hallway to his youngest son's room, the song starting from the beginning as he knocked on the door.

"Marty..." George called opening the door.

Marty, who had just turned three the day before was bouncing on his bed, a wind-up toy guitar in his hands, giggling in glee.

"Daddy!" Marty greeted him, without pausing in his song or jumping.

"Hey, son," George tried to figure out exactly how to stop Marty from incessantly cranking that guitar.

"Yankee Doodle Dandy, Riding on a Donkey..." Marty sang, surprisingly well for a three year old, but the song really was starting to get old....

"Um...Marty...how about putting the guitar down for a minute," he began.

"Gi-tar! Gi-tar!" Marty sang, still turning the crank. "I love my gi-tar!"

George smiled and took a few steps towards the bed, maybe he could go for an ambush and wrestle the guitar out of the kid's hands.

"It’s a nice toy, but wouldn't you like to play with something else?" Looking around the messy room, George spotted what had been Marty’s favourite just yesterday. "How ‘bout this?"

"Gi-tar! Gi-tar!" Marty continued.

"What about your car though?" George asked, a little desperately. "It's blue!"

Marty actually stopped jumping and cranking the guitar and looked at the toy car briefly. George gave him an encouraging smile, and held it out.

"I bought you a new mus-ang! It was nin-y six-y-fiiive." Marty started cranking the guitar again.

Well, at the very least he was singing something else, but the tune of ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ pretty much drowned that out.

Sighing George tossed the car into Marty's open toy box. It looked like desperate times called for desperate measures. Marty might be a good singer for a three year old, but George was a horrible singer for any age.

It didn't take long for Marty to stop his singing, in fact he even dropped the guitar.

"Daddy, stop!" He finally wailed putting his hands to his ears. "It's yucky!"

George did and gave his youngest son a grin, picking him up off the bed and away from the guitar.

"Sorry about that...don't know what came over me...probably the aliens," he winked.

Marty looked intrigued. "Really?"

"Really," George told him and began to spin a tale, relieved that Marty was distracted from the guitar.

For now.


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