Kids
Turn That Thing Down
“I want to play an electric guitar,” Ed told Daddy Wes.
“We’ll see, dear,” he replied in a voice that meant, “probably not.”
But next weekend, at a garage sale, he saw one: A cherry red, silver-stringed, ready-to-rock electric guitar with a black and grey amplifier.
“That’s the one,” said Ed. “I want it.”
“Maybe another time,” said Daddy Wes.
“Now,” said Ed. “Please.” And, after a lot of asking and a good amount of begging and not too much whining, he agreed that the guitar could be an early birthday present.
Ed pulled it home on his wagon. He carried it up to his bedroom. He plugged in the cord, turned on the amp and listened to it hum. He turned the knob to ten, wound his arm around like a windmill and hit the strings.
BRAAAAANG!
The sound shook the house. Ed smiled. Daddy Tony shouted from downstairs, “Turn that thing down!”
He turned the knob to eight, lifted his arm and hit the strings again.
BRAAANG!
The floor shook. Ed smiled. Daddy Wes yelled from the den, “Turn that thing down!”
Ed turned the knob to six. He hit the strings.
BRANG!
The windowpanes shook. Ed smiled.
His sister Nancy pushed open the door and shook her fist at him. She had her iPod in one hand. “You turn that thing down NOW. I can’t hear my favorite band, Slime River, with all your noise.”
Ed turned the knob to four. He strummed the strings.
Brang.
His feet shook.
“Quieter!” said Nancy. Ed turned it to three. He brushed the strings.
brang.
His hand shook. “That’s better,” she said. “Now keep it that way.” Nancy slammed the door on the way out.
“There, that must be okay,” thought Ed. Just then he heard a voice from outside his window. He looked down and saw Mrs. Muckberry, the next-door neighbor. “You, Eddie boy. I can’t hear myself think with all that racket. Turn that thing down.”
Ed stepped back from the window. He turned the knob all the way down to one. He plucked a string.
He could barely hear anything at all.
Every day after that, Ed came home from school and played his guitar. He kept it set to one. He sat with his ears right up next to the speaker so that he could hear. No one complained. And nothing shook, either. At first, Ed’s fingers were sore. But he liked what he could hear through the amplifier. Every day he liked it more and more.
One day, Daddy Wes knocked on Ed’s door. “Say, Ed, that sounds pretty good. Why don’t you turn that thing up?”
So Ed turned the knob up to two.
“Not bad at all,” said his dad as he walked down the hall, snapping his fingers.
The next day Daddy Tony called upstairs. “Hey, Ed, is that you? I thought it was the radio. It sounds nice. Turn that thing up.”
Ed turned the knob up to four. The windowpanes started to rattle. Ed’s sister barged in. “How’d you learn to play so good? Wow. Turn that thing up."
Ed turned it up to six. The floor shook. When he paused he heard someone shouting outside. He poked his head out the window, and there was Mrs. Muckberry. “Hey, Eddie boy. It sounds good up there. Do you know ‘You are my Sunshine?’ Turn that thing up.”
Ed turned the knob to eight and started playing. The whole house shook. He turned it up to nine. It felt like the whole earth was shaking. He played and played. When he stopped, the house kept shaking. Ed looked outside and saw the whole neighborhood dancing in the streets. Ed smiled and waved.
“Hey, don’t stop,” said Mrs. Muckberry. “And, if you can, turn that thing up.”
Which is just what Ed did.
