A tiny family lives inside the trumpet of a famous jazz man.
Diary,
I miss my room in the Tuba already. It was so spacious. Me and my brother would slide around and make up games. The human player didn’t get many gigs, so we had lots of spare time. But today we moved into Nat’s trumpet. It’s very cramped and we’re told he plays every night. Dad loves it. He says now we’ll be respected by the instrument dwelling community. I told him that I don’t care about status. He put me on spit valve duty. I was fuming until the gig tonight. The sound was incredible. We were working with a true artist. I didn’t want to tell dad, but I think I’m going to like it after all. Maybe if I keep doing a good job, we can join the team in Billy Taylors Piano.
Brett
freyawrightbrough 