The Undersea Symphony Of Young Wade Magee

This started on the back of a receipt while I was waiting for my car to be serviced, only to then continue onto many, many other receipts. Needless to say, if I ever get audited I have high hopes that the IRS appreciates fantastical worlds of childlike wonder.

The Undersea Symphony Of Young Wade Magee

Far past the salt flats of undying thirst

In an uncharted desert that most believe cursed,

There was a small child who fate did appoint

To live life in a town known as Dust Valley Point.

Locked though he was by expanses of land,

Like a castaway drifting upon seas of sand,

This boy you’ll now know as young Wade Magee

Dreamt only – and often – of a life by the sea.

A wish such as this was met with disdain

By the noble dirt farmer who gave him his name.

“The sweat on his brow,” his father’d decree,

“Is the only salt water found near a Magee!”

Though he did try with mighty persistence,

Wade couldn’t make peace with his arid existence –

Devils of dust and weeds that would tumble

Made poor substitutes for the sea’s mighty rumble.

One fateful day as he toiled in the field,

The cracked soil ‘neath his feet giving next to no yield,

Wade looked to the ground and to his knees fell

For the farm’s fallow field had revealed a seashell.

With trembling hands it was brought to his ear,

This gift of the ages buried in the frontier,

And what happened next was wholly unplanned –

From the shell came the sound of an orchestral band!

He heard the sea’s creatures, all in accord,

Come together to strike up a musical chord

For old though it was, the shell was still strong

With the sweet melody of the sea’s siren song.

Silver-tongued goldfish with voices so rich

Sang with finely tuned tuna that kept perfect pitch

And as flying fish soared, hitting high notes,

The seahorses sang ‘til they were hoarse in their throats.

“Wade,” called his father, “Put down that seashell!

Bid these notions of oceans the fondest farewell –

One look around and I’m sure you’ll agree

We’re the salt of the earth, not the salt of the sea!”

Yet Wade could not hear his father’s dry wit –

Not with all seven seas in the orchestra pit!

So the shell carried on its blissful tune,

A song heard in the desert but once a blue moon.

At school the next day, Wade studied his shell

And listened to its song from roll call to last bell

For though he loved learning, class had no class

When compared to the sound of the undersea brass.

While baritone bass laid down a bass line,

Holy mackerel and angelfish, voices divine,

Joined a chorus of colorful coral

As mermaids’ serenades made fighting fish quarrel.

“Wade,” called his classmates, “Put down that seashell!

You’ll remember it’s here on dry land that we dwell

So let’s ride some dirt bikes, eat some mud pie

And then take a dry run to the well that’s run dry!”

All of Wade’s friends and their shouts to come play

Were drowned out by the song of the catch of the day

So Wade did not move, not even an inch –

Not to hop, not to skip, not to jump, not to flinch.

In town the third day, Wade walked with his shell

As its maritime anthem continued to swell

And flood the town’s streets – no strangers to drought –

With the musical stylings of lyrical trout.

As dogfish all howled their musical scales,

Electric eels conducted blues songs for blue whales

And kissing fish crooned of love and romance

While monkfish, out of habit, recited their chants.

“Wade,” called the townsfolk, “Put down that seashell!”

Can’t you see the sea’s seized you with its watery spell?

And what, pray tell, is the fuss all about –

What on Earth could seas have that your town is without?”

Though all seven seas were in a reprise,

The loud voice of the crowd overtook them with ease

And Wade, having heard his town have its say,

Then did what he should have done the very first day.

Raising the shell for the whole town to see,

He then broke it in pieces – first two and then three –

And Dust Valley shook, rocked and then rumbled

As from the three pieces, all seven seas tumbled!

The seas and their song all swept through the town

And they filled the whole valley sunup to sundown –

There was nary an inch of Dust Valley Point

That the undersea symphony did not anoint.

Every note played by the seafaring band

Raised the water yet higher off hot desert sand

Until the small town of Dust Valley Point

Was a floating playground that could not disappoint.

Wade’s father, his classmates and the townsfolk,

All enjoying the fact that they got a good soak,

Much to their surprise did finally see

There’s nothing more beautiful than life by the sea.

And as everyone danced to the sea’s song

They raised Wade on their shoulders and all sang along –

“Three cheers to the source of all our town’s glee –

The Undersea Symphony of Young Wade Magee!”