“But that’s a Texan.” said Gary. “Texans are a lot of work. You have to walk a Texan, brush a Texan, pick up after a Texan. Why does it have to be a Texan? How about something easier to take care of?”
Jay turned to look at Gary. “I have my reasons,” he said. “I want a Texan. Lonestar is an awesome group! We could be like them. Go LONGHORNS!!!!! Sooners SUCK!!!!!!!!!” “Hmm,” Gary said. “Let’s go inside and see what other musicians they have. Maybe you’ll see something you like better.”
Jay took a deep breath. Gary just didn’t get it. Why was wanting a Texan so hard to understand? A little bell tingled as Gary opened the door to the pet shop.
“May I help you?” Asked a teenage sales clerk. He had purple hair and a ring through his nose. And it looked like her was wearing a dog collar himself.
Gary’s eyes widened and he jumped back a few steps. “Uh… yeah,” he said at last. “We’d like to look at some musicians.”
“Sure thing,” said the clerk. “We’ve got ‘em all - New Yorkers, drummers, Californians, keyboardists, Texans…”
“Thanks,” said Gary. “We’ll just look around.”
The clerk gave Gary and Jay the thumbs up. Then he disappeared into another section of the shop.
“What should we look at first?” asked Gary.
“Texans,” said Jay.
Gary frowned. “How about some nice Minnesotans?” he asked. He didn’t wait for Jay to answer. He headed for the Northern Artists section in the back of the shop.
Jay stood staring at the Texan in the front window. Then he joined Gary at the Northern Artists section. Surely Gary would figure it out soon. Minnesotan’s weren’t any fun.”
Gary bent over the barrier keeping the rowdy musicians in check. “Look,” he said. “This is full of really cold, really energetic people. You could have hours of fun just hanging out with these guys!”
Jay rolled his eyes. “Gary,” he said, “Minnesotans are okay musicians for old ladies or sick people. But not young cute people like me! I want someone I can play with, not just hang out with.”
Gary backed away from the barrier. “Right” he said. Then he moved on till he came to some smaller barriers that had more open areas and had some older, slower musicians.
“Look here,” said Gary. “Floridians! You can have lots of fun with a Floridian.”
Jay folded his arms across his chest. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “How?” “Floridian races,” said Gary. “We could get two Floridians and make up a song and let them race each other to see who can play it first.”
Instead he asked, “Don’t you remember that story we read together, Gary? The one about the Floridian and the Rabbit? The Floridian didn’t like to race. Sure he figured out the song first. But it took FOREVER!”
Gary scratched his head. He didn’t look happy. “Let’s check out some Southern Artists.”
The southern section was the noisiest part of the music shop.
“Squawwwwwk!” went a big odd Mississippian from an almost closed off room in the corner. “Rock and roll! Rock and roll! My mama‘s my sister!” he screeched.
Gary chuckled. “Wow! You can’t say that guy wouldn’t be any fun!” Jay shook his head. “Tara wouldn’t let us in the house with a dude as noisy as that,” he said.
Gary’s smile changed to a frown. “Oh, yeah… Tara,” he said, “you’re right.” Next to the Mississippian’s room was another room that seemed to be empty. “What’s in here?” asked Gary. “See anything?”
He and Jay moved closer to the barrier.
“Yeah,” said Jay. “on the floor. There’s a quiet little guy, but he likes his amp turned all the way up.” Gary saw him, too.
“Looks like a teenager,” said Gary. “But he’s got this talent to him that I’ve never seen before. “