TALES FROM WITCHWAY WOOD: Crash 'n' Bang Read Online Free

tune, the Basic Barn Dance tune, the Wedding tune, the Happy Birthday tune, the All-Purpose Overture and the Clear-Off-The-Show’s-Over tune. Is that it?’
    The Boys were gathered in the Studio. This was a small shed lined with egg boxes to keep the noise in. Sadly, a team of cowboy Goblins had done the job and stuck the boxes on the outside, which wasn’t quite as effective, particularly after the first heavy rainfall. Also, when the Boys were playing it usually got unbearably hot and stuffy, so they left the door ajar. Soundproof it wasn’t.
    Filth sat slumped on his drum stool, picking at his nail varnish. O’Brian had just arrived in a wobble of air and was currently collapsed against the wall, fanning himself and getting his breath back. Arthur leaned on the piano lid, writing a list with a pencil, looking efficient.
    ‘There’s the Jaunty Jig,’ said O’Brian, finding his breath.
    ‘Jaunty Jig,’ said Arthur, noting it down.
    ‘ Jig ,’ muttered Filth. ‘Huh.’
    ‘Always goes down well,’ said O’Brian. He just stopped himself adding ‘Especially my solo’, although he thought it.
    Arthur ran his pencil down the list. ‘Seven basic numbers. That’s what we’ve got. We need more. I think we should add a Waltz. The Skeletons kept requesting it at their last dance. I thought they were going to storm the stage.’
    ‘Oh, man,’ muttered Filth. ‘A Waltz ? Man.’
    ‘Problems, Filth?’ asked Arthur tiredly. He knew what was coming.
    ‘Are you serious? A Waltz . I mean. It’s not cool, dude.’
    ‘I know,’ said Arthur. ‘I know . But sadly, we have to play what people want. We’ve got to earn a living. Well, some of us do. We don’t all have a secret pot of Leprechaun gold buried in our garden.’
    ‘We don’t open it,’ explained O’Brian wearily. ‘I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s not for spending. It’s just there .’ This was true. For Leprechauns, the whole point of having a pot of gold is, well, having a pot of gold.
    ‘But we’re not in it for the bread,’ went on Filth. ‘We’ve got day jobs for that. The music’s for love, dude.’
    ‘Even so, we have to play what people like,’ said Arthur. ‘It’s a tough world out there.’
    ‘But I don’t like what people like. I wanna play Crash ’n’ Bang.’
    ‘We all do! But life is full of compromise, Filth. And it’s not as though we don’t ever play the good stuff, is it? What about that number we came up with the other week? With the boogie bass in the left hand? When we jammed for hours non-stop? Remember?’
    ‘Yeah, but we only play like that in rehearsals,’ complained Filth. ‘Never in public.’
    ‘That’s because the public doesn’t like it.’
    ‘Yeah, but I do. Anyway, I’m fed up with talking. I want to play.’ Filth picked up his drumsticks.
    ‘Good,’ said Arthur. ‘Because we’ve got a Zombie Reunion Dinner Dance coming up Saturday week and they’re asking for a Lurching tune. So we should get cracking if we’re going to do a Waltz as well.’
    Filth put down the sticks, folded his arms and looked mutinous. These little disagreements came up from time to time. It happens with creative types.
    ‘Right,’ said Arthur, ignoring him. ‘Think lurchy.’ He put down his pencil, sat at the piano and flexed his claws. ‘I thought something like this.’
    And he began to play something lurchy. It had a thumpy, lumpy sort of left hand, with long pauses between thumps. His right claw added a series of sinister sounding chords on the top. After a moment, O’Brian joined in with some jolly little toodles that sounded more like Skipping Pixies than Lurching Zombies.
    Arthur stopped.
    ‘Perhaps a little less jaunty, O’Brian. Less village green and more foggy graveyard.’
    ‘You want me to play like fog?’
    ‘Yes.’
    O’Brian attempted to play like fog. It still sounded a bit toodly. Arthur added a few lurchy thumps on the piano. After a moment or two, they lurched and fogged to a