The Snail Orchestra

The Snail Orchestra(Noor Wadhah) "Oh for mama's sake!"

The little snails, in a beautiful garden bursting with colors, were trying to practice a heartwarming song for a special someone.

Key word: Trying.

"How many damn times do we have to mess that? It's D, E, C, not D, E, D!" Bellowed the conducter with his italian accent. His long Mario mustache made it difficult to take this seriously. Heaving a sigh, he once again told himself that this is all worth it. That this is all for the gardener, who (unwittingly) gave them food, from the delicious flower petals to the crunchy leaves. And he once again waved his little stick to demand more melody.

The next day, the gardener was there, chopping the flowers with his pruners whilest whistling 'Somewhere Over the Rainbows'. The orchestra snails, with their tiny red bow ties and tiny cute smiles, are now prepared to show their token of gratitude to the special someone.

As the conductor's stick raised the wave of a soft and quiet lullaby, a small group of snails crawled to the front. With a deep breath and enough determination, each started singing ever so wonderfully:

"O kind soul of the nature,
The one that tends the forgotten.
How can we repay such favor,
For without you we all are rotten."

The gardener appeared to be unaware of their singing (hey, what do you expect from snails and their tiny, squeaky voices?).

"Louder, louder!" The conducter excalimed, his accent thicker than ever. The snails played their string instruments with all their might, whilst the voices of the little chorus was high and clear:

"O human with a pure heart
You may be shaped like a barrel,
With the look of Will Ferrell,
Yet we shall forever,
Hold you treasure
For you, human, have a pure heart."

The gardener was now looking at the snails, as if he noticed them just now.

"Keep going, keep going!" Yelled the conductor, now grinning with excitement and joy. Once again, the chorus took a deep breath and continued:

"O mighty lord of the greens
With your crops that prosper,
And the han-"

The gardener now brutally squished each and every one of them. "I hate snails," Grumbled he, then went back to chopping the leaves with his pruners and whistling 'Somewhere Over the Rainbows'.