Say clavis

It all started, well part of it started, when I came in my door one Monday afternoon. I had been out looking at a serial number for an old Langrab computer. I collect them you see, the numbers, not the computers! My dog opened one bleary eye to see if I had any food. In that I didn’t, he went back to his nap.

People liked Kakkashi: whenever we went out for walks they would come and pat him and give him treats. When I tried to make polite conversation they would get a faraway look in their eyes – maybe they just don’t like computer serial numbers.

As I went down the creaky old stairs to the cellar, a bubble of excitement arose. I always felt happier when with my numbers than anywhere else. However, when I arrived I immediately noticed a guitar in the middle of the floor. It looked fancy and it said YAMAHA on it in big letters. Naturally I skirted around it: guitars were not my thing. I added my new serial number to my collection and studied the build and order of the digits.

After a while I began to feel hungry, so I got up to make some dinner. This time as I skirted past the guitar I noticed that there was a yellow post it note on the box. I stared at it in disbelief. It said “This guitar will bring you your fortune.”

You what? I thought to myself. A guitar? My fortune? Not likely! I picked up the guitar and the note fell off. As it landed I noticed that it said something on the back. What on earth? I thought. It said: “Say CLAVIS”. Why in block capitals? my thoughts continued. “Clavis” I said in a loud and clear voice. As soon as I’d said it the guitar started playing itself! I heard the sound of paws on the stairs as Kakkashi came to investigate the sudden outburst of guitar music. It didn’t take me long to realise that it was playing one of my favourite songs, Mad World, by some dude who I never remember the name of. If the guitar could play itself, I could maybe pretend to be playing it, and earn my fortune! That must be what the note meant! And perhaps, just perhaps, someone might notice me.

After wandering around the streets, parks and squares for a few days, “playing” my guitar, I realised that still nobody was noticing me. My tip bowl was empty and money was running short. I decided that practice was all I needed. Maybe people were seeing through the trick? “Clavis” I said. It hadn’t taken me long to realise that you didn’t have to say it loudly: you could just as well whisper it. The guitar started playing, and I tried to keep up with the finger movements. With that. the telephone rang. It must be that man from Sheffield who claimed to have an ancient computer in his attic. I dropped the guitar and sprinted into the hall to pick up the phone. It wasn’t the man from Sheffield; it was someone trying to sell me a coffee machine. I slammed down the receiver and stormed into the living room, where I froze in shock. Kakkashi was playing with my guitar. He had somehow managed to get his neck through the strap and placed his paws over the strings, it looked just like he was playing! I instructed the guitar to play “how much is that doggie in the window”, which it did. The guitar responded to voice commands. There was a knock at the door; it was the postman with a letter and some bills for me. What I hadn’t realised was that Kakkashi and the guitar were in plain sight of the front door. The poor postman almost fainted when he saw him. That gave me an idea, if Kakkashi were to play on the street, with his food bowl in front of him...

The plan worked. The only problem was that no one noticed me. Great crowds would gather round him, but they all pushed me away. On the upside, I can afford to pay the bills now. Kakkashi made hundreds of pounds a day! He has been on loads of TV shows, played at great concert halls where all the seats had been sold out, and he has made me my fortune. People called him “the great guitar-playing Golden Labrador” – I suppose they weren’t feeling very inventive that day. So, the note was right after all!

*Author's note: Clavis is Latin for key.

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