“When you first have your baby, you don’t know what to think,” began Cindy, the head singer. “Make sure your baby’s diaper doesn’t stink.”
“Make sure he gets his food, because he’s always hungry,” added Mabel. “Make sure you have a nice job, because he will eat your money.”
“YeS, PlEEEeAsSSSE Do thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat! Please do THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat! He’s so cute, like a BaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabBY CaTtttttttttTttttttttttttttT!” I sang,, glancing at my notes and then at the audience. The smiles on their faces had been wiped off. I began to sweat a bit, but I continued singing. “And WhhhhhhhhhEEEEEn he is to go to SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsllllllllllllllllEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEepppppppppppppppppppppppp, make sure you can SiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnGGGGGGG! Because onto YoooooooooooooUuuuuuUuuRrrrrrrrrrrrR voiiiiiice he’LLLLLLL Cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!”
“Um, Jack,” whispered Cindy. “I think I should take the rest.”
I ignored her. She was always in the spotlight, and now it was my turn. “WWWwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhen yourRRRRRRRRRrr Babbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy CriES, MAKE sure to BOUnCe Him, And SiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiNG TO Him InnN that voice that’s AstounDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!”
Suddenly I felt two algid hands wrap around my throat, and I realized it was Cindy. Her hands slid up to my mouth.
“Lady Ashley, this is Cindy,” she sang. “I know this is weird but please forgive me. I hope your baby is not traumatized. I’m really sorry. I must apol—Ow!”
Before she could finish, I had bit her hand. She fell back, screaming.
“GooooooooooooooooooooooooooDDDDDDDDDDddddddddddddNnnnnnnnnnnnIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiight ya’ll, PllllllleaaaaaaaSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssssEeeeeeeeeeee forgive Cindy,” I said. “BuuuuuuuuuuuuTtttttttttttttttt noooooooowWwwwwwWwwwwwwwwwww She’llllllllll, head back stage with meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” I grabbed Cindy and dragged her behind the curtain. She screamed in protest.
“Jack,” she said, smiling. “I think you should be promoted.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” She pulled an instrument out of her pocket. I sighed.
“Triangle again?”
“Triangle again.”