The Front Man (The King and The Fool, Part 3 of 3)

In a certain folktale a king is dying and all the knights sought a cup which would save him. They searched far and wide but none could find The Grail. On his deathbed he asks his fool for water. The fool hands him a glass, and there, in the king’s hand, is The Cup. The king drinks and he rises refreshed. He asks the fool:

“How could you find the cup when my greatest knights have failed?”

The fool says “I don’t know. You were thirsty, so I gave you water.”

That was Max. He had no idea what he was doing, but the living water of music flowed from him. Because theory could only extend so far.  Because music is magic.  Not all who travel the river know the stream, because the river does not know itself.

And now Simon stood in Max’s former place at The Beer Garden and Max sat behind him trying to organize his haphazard collection of instruments on a little table beside him, getting ready to support and weave some fashion of melodies and harmonies behind Simon’s music. And the infuriating thing was, he would. He would without even knowing what he did. And Max knew he would never truly understand. And the knowledge that Max would never know how he did what he did was killing Simon.

And after every performance before this one Max had vomited blood and then drank himself into oblivion because Max knew Simon was the king and he was only the fool. And one day Max knew he would hand Simon The Grail.

And today Simon, the king, finally stood in his rightful place. And the fool sat behind him, ready.

The end.