5The Magic of Music
Chapter One
Clatter! The man kicked the can of coins on the ground.
"Damn homeless people! Always begging for money!" said the man angrily. "Get lost you beggar!"
"But sir, I was only asking if you had spare change for some food and drink!" said Chuckert.
"I don't give a damn about you homeless people! You can't even get a job to eat and expect the working class people to help you and finance you! You are bringing the economy down by begging! It makes me and everyone else work more! I hate you all!" The man kicked Chuckert's can of coins and hastily left.
"Well there goes my chance for some stew at "The Kitchen"." Chuckert had had very little luck getting money, food, women, and about everything else he tried to get. Somehow, things never worked out for him.
Chuckert was an average sized man of fair skin and long and wavy black hair. He would have been a handsome man if he had nice clothes but, being homeless, he couldn't afford it.
Chuckert walked to his box and sang. Chuckert was an excellent singer but he wasn't aware of this and only ever sang to himself in his box. What he also didn't know was that there was a recording artist being told that his concert would be cancelled if he didn't find a singer by the end of the week while walking past Chuckert and hearing his superb singing.
"Hello?" said the recording artist.
Hearing this strange voice scared Chuckert and made him run his nonexistent shoes off. He looked behind him in his blind dash, and saw the strange man chasing him. He ran faster and the man soon gave up the chase.
Even if Chuckert had run off, hearing Chuckert sing had given this man an idea. He thought that if he could get Chuckert to sing at his concert he would become a big success. If only he could find out whom this excellent singer was…
Chuckert wondered what this man wanted and why he wanted him. Why not somebody else? Why not someone wealthier or better suited? What was so special about him?
Chuckert was walking along his usual route to his box taking the long way around when he remembered why he ran away from it in the first place.
"I'm not going back there!" he said to himself. "What if that man is still there?" He usually talked to himself when back things happened to him. On a sunny day you could find Chuckert talking to himself because he was often times in bad situations. On the other hand, on a rainy day you could find him talking to a small cockroach he names Fred.
Because Chuckert didn't want to go back to his box, he lay down and went to sleep. What he forgot was that this was the same street he had just left, with his same box and same cockroach and only one hundred yards away. And although he wouldn't know it until morning, another homeless guy and his family of rabbits had taken his box and was using Chuckert's cockroach as dinner.
When Chuckert woke up the next morning and went to his box, he found the homeless guy with a paper in his hands.
"Whatcha reading there?" Chuckert asked, excusing the fact that his box had overnight become occupied.
"It's a warrant for the finding of a guy who looks incredibly like you, is about as tall as you, and is about your age."
"May I take a look please?" Chuckert asked and received the paper from the man.
On the paper was an artist's drawing of him.
There were so many questions rushing through Chuckert's mind. What did he do wrong? Why did people want him? How did this man know how old he was? When did he learn to read?