Solfeggio P. Snake slithered soundlessly through the sand.
Tufts of beach grass popped out of the dunes at odd angles, tilted to avoid the wind that often blew in from the ocean. The sun, bright overhead, gently warmed his blue-black scales.
A soft “whuff” sound stopped Sol in his track. He lifted his head, tongue darting this way and that. Nothing.
He crept closer to the top of the dune and peered over.
No one.
He crested the top of the dune and slid toward where he thought the sound had come from, his head pivoting right and left, alert.
And then he saw it.
He froze for several minutes, his brain struggling to understand what he was seeing. The thing wasn’t moving, or making any noise, but it certainly hadn’t been there this morning.
Gray, boxy, with some circle-y bits and some square bits and a long, silver… what was that?
It was much too skinny to be a snake, and anyway, it stood ramrod straight in the air, without moving.
He didn’t know how long he waited there, unmoving, but the thing hadn’t moved either. Sol’s tongue flitted in and out.
He slithered toward the thing, cautious. Still, it didn’t move.
He made a slow circle around it, and raised his front half to peer at the top of the box. The top was darker, shiny, and marked with parallel lines. It still hadn’t moved.
A rustling on the sand startled him, and he lurched backward. Enough for today. He had things to do, breakfast to catch. Sol slithered away from the thing.
The thing would wait.
The next morning, Sol slithered by the dune, following his usual route. He’d almost forgotten about the thing, but the beach grass, all akimbo, suddenly reminded him that it had been there, sitting on the other side.
He slithered to the top of the dune and craned his neck to see. The thing hadn’t moved. At all.
Sol slipped down the dune, and circled the thing once more. Nothing had changed. The thing smelled mostly like nothing at all, but carried the faint scent of some animal, not one he recognized.
He put his face closer to the silver not-a-snake. It was much shorter and thinner than he was, and narrowed toward the top, which was crowned with a flat silver button.
Tongue flicking in and out, Sol sniffed over every part of the boxy thing. Nothing. He coiled up and watched it for a while. Nothing.
He came to a decision. He slipped back alongside the thing, and this time he nudged it with his nose. It didn’t move. He nudged the silver part, which jiggled a little and then fell still. He poked at the square bits. And then he poked one of the circle-y bits, and the thing roared to life.
“…next up on KREP, golden hits of the 60s, and 70s!”
Sol whipped around and flew to the other side of the dune. The thing didn’t follow.
“Here’s one for a sunny day, folks. Enjoy!”
But it was loud.
And then, a different sort of sound. Sol couldn’t describe it, but he could feel it.
Doo, bah doompah doompah doo. Doo, bah doompah doompah doo.
I got sunshine, on a clou-ou-dy day… bah doompah doompah doo…
Sol felt it right up through his beautiful, shimmery scales, through his ropey muscles, and inside the beat of his snake heart.
My girl, my girl, my girl, talking ’bout my girl…
Sol, transfixed, began to sway. Eyes closed, he circled his neck this way and that. Sol, for the first time in his life, began to dance.
He danced through My Girl, and House of the Rising Sun, and California Dreamin’, and What a Wonderful World, and Hey Jude–Ju Judy Judy Ju JuDY!–and Brown Eyed Girl, and Moondance, and at some point he lost track altogether.
Toward evening, the thing started to lose its voice. The music came in fits and starts, jolting Sol out of his trance. He slithered to the box, poked at it. But when the sun set, the thing fell quiet.
Sol shook his head. Had he really spent the whole day there? He realized he was cold, and hungry. He slipped away in search of dinner and home.
But Sol had danced on the beach in the sunlight, and he’d be back tomorrow.
