Mon  04-12-1999
There are some stories which keep popping up, jiggling the funny
bone.  Here is an early version of a story which I expect to
become a genuine fan-fiction entry.
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An incomplete silly story, The Cinderella Singer.

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The soft notes of the huge gong vibrated through the evening
purple, as monks hurried slowly to assembly.  Two monks stood
aside, conversing softly.

"We are sad to see you go," the elder said.  "I will look forward
to your messages."

Basho, the younger, said plaintively, "Is it really necessary?  I
am doing no harm, here.  I need the quiet, the peace."

"Ordinarily, I would recommend that you stay and benefit from the
solitude," the old monk said.  "However, because your awakening
was so abrupt and powerful, you have stayed within your shell
when you should have emerged and faced the world long ago."

"The people out there...they are so 'unfocused'."

"Nevertheless.  We have so few wants and desires here, we are not
good experience for you.  You must go and learn to live in the
midst of temptation."

"I...I am not worthy," gulped Basho.

"I know, I know." The old monk patted him on the shoulder, "Send
us a card, okay?"

Basho started down the road, detouring around a child playing
with a ragged doll.  The doll was missing its hair and one arm.
Down the road, he glanced back at the scene to see the child
gleefully clutching a whole doll, now dressed in a happy costume.
Basho winced and shuddered.  "This is not going to be easy," he
said.

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   Hiroche Diasuke was an average lad, slightly selfish and
   willing to let others take care of him.  He bullied his little
   sister, not sharing candy or money.  Hiro loved money.  Oh, he
   was willing to work for it, as long as it did not entail TOO
   much work.  He was only moderately lazy.  Clever schemes were
   his downfall, and he wasted more money trying to get easy
   money than he made.

   His father was a businessman and his mother ran the shop.
   They were traditional parents, wishing only that Hiro grow up
   in a responsible healthy manner.  Hiro did not work for them
   because he always had some other scheme for making money,
   sometimes even going to work for a rival.

   Hiro had been fired from his job at the grocery.  On his way
   home, he saw an awkward, bumbling man dressed in a hassock
   stumbling about in rush hour traffic. Hiro helped the man to
   safety and they got to talking.

   The man was a monk named Basho, who had been living in
   isolation for years.  He felt he must face the modern world
   and discover what changes it would work on him.  Basho worked
   a few magical tricks and convinced Hiro that he was a clever
   prestiditationist.

   Hiro said he was going to a benfit concert at the school and
   Basho was welcome to come along.



"Y'know," Hiroche said as he polished off the ice cream cone, "I
have a dream.  I have always wanted to be a singer.  Making
money, having fans.  I wish I was an idol singer."

Basho grimaced.  "Oh, please!  Do not jest about such things! You
are a bright lad and the world will be better off if you accept
who you are. Do not wish yourself to be something you aren't!"

"What's wrong with wishing?  It helps to pass the time."

Basho appeared to be watching something outside Hiroche's range
of vision.  "Things have a way of coming true around me," he
whispered.

Hiroche stuck out his chin.  "I wish...."

Basho covered his ears.  "I don't want to hear it!"

"...I wish...I want to be an idol singer!  There!  Hows that for
a dumb wish?  I ain't got the looks, and I ain't got the voice.
Plus, my parents would never let me out of the house."

The neon reflected eerily from Basho's eyes.  "Very well.  You
could work on your talent.  But you would have to practice."

"Yeah," said Hiroche complacently. "I could take lessons.  But
nothing can help my looks!  You just wait!  I'll show you some
guys who have it all!  If I looked better than them, I might have
a chance!"

Preoccupied, Basho stumbled against a utility pole.  Tiny blue
fires raced along his sleeve when he pushed himself away.  "I
wish you would not do this," he whispered.  "Let's call it off!"
When nothing happened, he dejectedly mourned, "It doesn't work
for me!"

"We can see the first part of the show from here, before I have
to go home," Hiroche answered. "The best singers in the business
are giving a benefit."

The show began, and they watched as a scrawny kid stomped out on
stage and began to warble.

"I can understand you wanting to sound better than that!" Basho
shuddered.

"He's just the opening act," Hiroche shrugged.  "I'll tell you
when there's a good one.  'Rocky Cliff' is due up next!  He's the
greatest!"

"And you want to be better," Basho said.

"I wish it with all my heart," Hiroche sighed. "Just for a little
while."

As the scrawny kid left the stage, the announcer led a spattering
of applause and began a long rambling introduction for the next
act.  Rocky Cliff could not make it because of a bus breakdown.
In his place....

...Into his place on stage walked the most beautiful girl Hiroche
had ever seen.  As the music rose and she sang the first line,
Hiroche sighed.

"Isn't she fabulous?  Her name is PrimRose.  She is the
greatest!"

Basho boggled.  "She's the greatest?" he repeated.

"She's the best, man!"

"But she...."

"Yeah.  Ain't she something?"

"The best looks?"

"She's a knockout!"

"The best voice?"

"Listen!  Doesn't it send shivers down your spine?"

Basho shuddered.  "You don't know how much," he said. "And now it
is too late."

"Eh?  What did you say?"

There was a steadily growing rumble which drowned out all
thought.

"I said...." Basho had to yell to make himself heard above the
din, "I said...."

Hiroche looked at the hand grasping Basho's cassock, a slender
female hand which was attached to a slender female arm which was
covered with a brilliant blue sleeve which was attached to a
blouse which was attached to...him.  "Acckkkk!" he said.

"...I...said...it...is...too...late!"



   Attracted by the noise, guards chased Hiro and Basho until he
   found himself on an empty stage.  Seeing him, the audience set
   up a chant - "Sing something!  Sing something!"

   Hiro was about to run offstage when the guards appeared, ready
   to grab him.  He stepped up to the mike and asked, in a
   quavering voice, "What...what should I sing?"  The audience
   became very quiet and still.

   "Go ahead," suggested Basho.  "Sing anything.  Sing a
   lullaby."

   When he sang the first line of a child's lullaby, the audience
   roared its approval.  By the time he finished the simple song,
   the applause was deafening.  The guards were suddenly on his
   side, helping him to get away from the crowd.  Some fans
   followed, however, and were about to find him when it was
   twelve o'clock and he became himself again and eluded them.




"Don't get me wrong, Basho!" Hiro sputtered, "I appreciate your
efforts!  Really I do!  But - just for the record.  Don't do that
again, promise?"

Basho cast his gaze downward.  "It is not that simple," he said.

"What do you mean, it is not that simple?  Just don't DO it,
okay?"

"I didn't...I'm not the one who did it.  All I did was provide
the catalyst.  You did the changing."

"What?"

"That is the way wishes work."

"What?"

"You asked for better looks and voice than...."

"Do you mean I WANTED to be a girl?  Yukk!  I am not that kind of
a guy!"

"I asked you what kind of a singer you wanted to be, and you said
you wanted better looks and better voice than...."

"But I was talking about male looks!  Male voice!"

"You did not specify 'male'.  You said you wanted to be better
than the best, and when you pointed out the greatest, you
provided the energy, I provided the catalyst, and I don't know
what triggered it...."

"Okay!  All right!  Just don't do it again, all right?"

"Ahhh...no."

"Listen, you make me a girl again and so help me...."

"I didn't change you.  You did that.  You can do it again."

"Aren't you listening?  I don't WANT to do it again!  It was
horrible!"

"But first, you have to find the third factor - the trigger.  I
am not necessary anymore."  Basho turned to go.  He was jostled
as a TV crew bustled past, the anchorwoman peering into the
shadows and searching the shrubbery.

"No, wait!" Hiro said, "Don't go away!  That's not what I said!
What did you mean, the third factor?"

Over his shoulder, Basho said, "There was something which
triggered your change.  You have to find out what it was.  Once
you do, then you can control your ability."

"It ain't going to happen again!  Look.  Please, stay.  Mom will
find a spare room for you.  You can't wander around on the
streets.  It isn't safe."

"Do you mean that?  You want me to stay around?"

"I feel kind of responsible for you.  Only don't grant any more
wishes, okay?"

"I will try," smiled the monk shyly.  "I must harmonize my spirit
with the surrounding world.  When I have reached stability, I can 
control the temptation to help people when they do not need it."

The news woman approached them, still searching.  "Have you seen
that girl?" she asked.

"What girl?" Hiro maintained a mask of strained innocence.

"That singer in blue!  She was magnificent!  She was wonderful!
And no one knows who she is or where she went!"

Hiro glanced at Basho.

"Haven't seen her!" they chorused.

"I have to interview her!" the news woman said, "She is the find
of the century!  I'll pay you if you can get me her name!"

This caught his attention.  "Pay?  How much?"  Hiro asked, ignoring
Basho's frantic arm-waving.


(And it goes on from there.)



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I guess jotting this down helps clear the tubes for more serious work.
I hope.... 

Anyway, it's fun.  ^_^

James