The Pianist

THE PIANIST.
A
SHORT STORY
BY
PETER HILLS

Nick Purvis was a disappointed man. He felt that life had been unduly cruel to him. It appeared that just as he was getting ahead, just as he felt he was at last making some headway, some invisible figure would stick out its leg just as he was rounding the corner, and he would fall headlong, face down into one of life’s loathsome cesspools. The events recently were no exception.
He gazed with some dismay at the small figure seated at the piano and he sighed inwardly. There sitting at the piano playing with faultless ability was a man, but not any ordinary man for he stood not more than twelve inches high, when indeed he did stand, for most of the time he sat at his miniature piano and played.
The Lilliputian figure was dressed, as always, as a concert pianist would be dressed, his tiny hands moving deftly and effortlessly over the keys. Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven, none of them posed any difficulty for the little man. Nick had something to be grateful for, at least the man could play, but why me he thought.
"Time we were going, " Nick said to the man, a note of resignation in his voice.
The man finished the piece he was playing and rested his hands on his lap and, with head slightly bowed took a few deep breaths while he composed himself. He then without a sound closed the lid of the piano and stood and walked to one side of the little stool that he had been sitting on.
The man watched without a word as Nick picked up the piano and placed it in a case that he had had especially made so that he could carry the piano without damaging it or upsetting the mechanism.
Next he gently lifted the man and placed him carefully in his inside coat pocket, all the time the man made no sound or uttered any protest.
Picking up his house keys Nick made his way to the door of his two bedroom flat and checking that the stove was off and that nothing had been left switched on that shouldn't be on, turned off the main lounge light and closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the night air.
As he walked along the street Nick could feel the little man bobbing up and down in his pocket. He gently put his palm on his chest so as to steady his wee passenger. He walked the hundred yards to the bus stop and only had to wait a few minutes before his bus arrived. He sat on the lower deck and stared out of the window at the streets as they whisked by.
He shook his head slowly in total disbelief at his miserable misfortune. He recalled the day he was hurrying along the pavement, he was hurrying because he wanted to get out of the cold biting wind and there was a particular television program he wanted to watch. He remembered he was tired and hungry and just wanted to get home, the day had a particularly trying one and he had had enough.
He remembered seeing this little old lady teetering on the edge of the pavement, franticly trying to see a gap in the busy line of traffic.
was moved to stop and assist her.
"Here, Let me help you," he called to her and lifted her bag of shopping and held her arm.
Shortly a gap appeared and Nick guided her across to the middle and waited a moment and then helped her safely to the other side.
Once they were on the pavement she gripped his hand firmly, almost steel like, which surprised him greatly because to look at her she didn't give the impression that she could skim the top off of a rice pudding.
She pulled him almost forcefully to the side of a building and while his shoulder pressed against the cold brickwork regarded him earnestly.
"Young man, " she croaked, "I am extremely appreciative of the service you have rendered me, without your help I should still be on the other side of the road and I would have been late for my most important appointment."
"That's okay," he shouted to her above the noise of the traffic.
She gazed up into his face, "I'm sorry young man, I'm a little hard of hearing, could you speak up please."
Nick raised his voice still higher, "Think nothing of it," and turned to move away.
"Wait ! I want to thank you."
"You already have."
The old crone strained her eyes and craned her head towards him, "What was that ?"
"I said you're welcome."
She nodded and then beckoned him closer. Nick looked at his watch he still had a little time and so he took the few steps back and bent towards her.
"I'm going to tell you something and I want you to listen very carefully."
Nick looked at her face, her countenance had changed, her eyes had become clear, pristine.
"You're probably not going to believe this, " she continued, "But I am a fairy, a very powerful and special fairy."
Nick could not contain himself and he burst out laughing, "Yeah right, and I'm superman."
She gripped his arm again, tighter this time, her jaw firmly set. A shiver went down Nick's spine.
"Do not mock me or jest with me. What I tell you is the truth! I have extraordinary powers, powers which you would not even be able to imagine."
Nick bent closer, the noise of the traffic was overpowering.
"Listen boy, " she rasped, "I have the ability to grant you any wish you want. Tell me your hearts desire and it shall be yours but think carefully I shall only grant you one wish."
Nick was amused at first but he could see the serious expression on her face and it disturbed him. "Anything I want."
She nodded twice, "Anything. I can give you the beauty of Adonis. I can give you the strength of Hercules, " she shouted into his ear, and then she said a little less loudly, "or I can give you the wisdom of Solomon."
Nick thought for a moment and then shouted his request into her ear, I'd like a twelve inch penis."
She looked at him with an amazed expression and regarded him carefully and with a shrug of her shoulders looked deep into his eyes and gave a graceful wave of her arm. She then took her bag in her hand, turned, and walked away, her back bending into the wind.
Nick watched as she tottered away. He was expecting an explosion in the member between his legs, or at the very least, a slight swelling in his manhood, but there was nothing.
Nick smiled to himself. He knew she was a fraud. He was just about the hurry back across the road when he heard above the noise of the traffic the melodic sounds of the piano, and there on the pavement was the little man, playing Beethoven, dressed in concert clothes. A twelve inch pianist.

The End.

THE END.