Hurdy-Gurdy Guardian

I placed an ad online that read, “For trade, vintage air hurdy-gurdy, excellent condition. Once played by a baked curd vendor in the marketplace at Marrakesh. Will trade for other collectible air instruments such as the air bass guitar played by Joe Cocker at Woodstock, or an air London Philharmonic.”

I chuckled to myself as I placed the ad and wondered if I would receive any responses. I didn’t have to wait long until I received a reply, “Would you be interested in an air zythoniium? The instrument is from a smoke free environment and in excellent shape. It has never left the confines of this galaxy.

Sincerely, Malcolm the Guardian.”

I read the reply to my wife Darlene and we both had a good laugh. She pointed to the ad and then to me.

“Hoo boy, someone is as crazy as you are. You have to reply, I am dying to find out what an air zythoniium is.“

“Okay, I’ll message Malcolm the Guardian back and see what he says. How does this sound? ‘Dear Malcolm, thank you for your interest in the air hurdy-gurdy. An air zythoniium sounds interesting. Can you describe the instrument to me?' "

Malcolm sent an almost instant reply, “I can tell you that the zythoniium has never failed me during my darkest and most desperate times. It always stays in tune and has been set up by an expert luthier. There is not much else I can say, would you be willing to meet up to examine the instrument and make the exchange for the hurdy-gurdy?"

Sincerely, Malcolm

Darlene was already lacing up her Air Jordans, “Quick, message him back, tell him we can meet him at the Otherworldly Cafe in ten minutes.”

I replied to Malcolm and asked if he knew the location of the Otherworldly Cafe.

His simple reply was “Of course, see you in ten.”

I grabbed an empty Amazon box as Darlene and I rushed out the door and headed uptown to the Otherworldly. The noisy, crowded cafe was filled with eager college students, trendy hipsters and harried workers rushing in for a good jolt of caffeine before beginning their daily responsibilities. It wasn’t hard to spot the enormous man crammed into a folding wooden chair. His black leather jacket was worn and faded. A pair of scuffed engineer’s boots disappeared into the legs of dark jeans. The upper portion of his face was concealed by a pair of mirrored sunglasses that rested on his large broad nose. He had thick, wiry grey hair that poked out in various directions and a matching short, scruffy beard.

The big man removed his glasses and stood as Darlene and I approached his table. His chair fell back with a crash and a dome of silence descended on the cafe. I heard fearful whispers about biker gangs and drugs.

Malcolm ignored the stares, held out his large calloused hand and engulfed mine in a meaty hand shake. He turned to Darlene and gently took her small hand in his.

“I’m Malcolm, thanks for coming.” His voice had the deep resonance of James Earl Jones speaking from inside a large cavern.

His furrowed face told the story of a dark, difficult life yet his calm demeanor revealed a man set free from his past and secure in his current identity. His ebony eyes seemed to peer into my very soul revealing my true character.

He picked up his chair from the floor and we all settled into our seats. The other patrons resumed what they were doing before the strange, scary man caught their attention.

My eyes shifted to a five foot long rectangular object sloppily wrapped in plain brown paper.

“It’s nice to meet you Malcolm. Can I buy you a coffee?”

He nodded at the steaming espresso in front of him and smiled. “Thanks James, I’m good.”

I thought back on our communication to confirm I had never told him my name.

“Wait, how do you know my name?”

His broad smile revealed several blackened teeth. Darlene smiled back at the mysterious gentle giant and nodded towards the package in front of him on the table.

“Is that the zythoniium?”

“Yes it is, this one is the latest air cooled model. But first, may I examine the air hurdy-gurdy?”

A muddy wave of guilt washed over me and left me feeling dirty and uncomfortable. Malcolm was odd, and intimidating, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. I couldn’t bring myself to cheat him.

“Uh, Malcolm, you know what an air guitar is, right? Well, this is an air hurdy-gurdy. It is not a real instrument you just pretend like you are playing it.”

I pushed the empty box towards him and he gingerly opened it. His large arms seemed to wrap around something substantial and his right hand started moving as if turning a small crank in a rhythmic way. The sweet sounds of a violin filled the cafe. He draped his left arm down and started moving his fingers as if he was playing an instrument with small keys. The smooth tones took on a more rhythmic tune.

Darlene looked at me and shrugged as the large man nodded.

“Awesome air hurdy-gurdy, excellent tone and very responsive, I like it.”

He placed the imaginary hurdy-gurdy back into the Amazon box and pushed the brown package towards Darlene. We unwrapped the zythoniium carefully and examined our new instrument. Inside the wrapping was a dull black, metallic object that was shaped like an inverted oak tree. It had a long thin trunk with roots emerging from one end of the tree. The other end of the trunk was attached to a section shaped like the top of a tree with leaves and branches carved into the surface. I placed it on my lap like a guitar and it cradled comfortably on my thigh. I was surprised at how light it felt.

Malcolm held out a strap with snail shell engravings and nodded towards the zythoniium.

“You attach this strap to the knob where the trunk meets the leafy section and attach the other end knob on the top of the tree. The strap allows you play it standing up.”

I located the knobs, took the strap, grinned at Malcolm and asked him how to play a zythoniium.

“Put your left hand on the trunk and think about joyful moments. Maybe when you married Darlene or when you got your first guitar for Christmas. Always be careful where you point the neck when you play it.”

I put my left hand on the trunk and stretched out my fingers into a major G shape while thinking about how happy I was when Darlene and I tied the knot. We all heard a sweet tone like a Telecaster played on the bridge pickup through an overdriven tweed Champ amplifier.

A couple sitting across from us abruptly ended their heated argument and smiled affectionally at each other. I noticed the neck of the zythoniium was pointed right at them. I jerked my left hand off the trunk and the pleasant sound stopped immediately.

“Whoa, I see what you mean Malcolm, I better be careful where I point this thing.”

Malcolm nodded, “That you should my friends, a Guardian must always use caution when playing their zythoniium.”

Darlene reached out and lightly touched Malcolm’s thick arm. “A Guardian, what do you mean, Malcolm?”

Malcolm responded to her touch and gently covered her hand in his, “You have been chosen since before you were created. It is not because of merit but because of love. Go forward and be agents of joy and peace but watch out for the deceiver. Death sometimes disguises itself as life. You must be as wise as serpents but as gentle as doves. Now, I must be going, I don’t belong here.”

Malcolm picked up the air hurdy-gurdy and strolled out the door without turning back.

Darlene and I stared at each other in shock for a moment before grabbing the zythoniium and charging out the door. We had more questions for him before he roared off on his Harley but Malcolm was nowhere in sight.