Varlien's Story

Occupation: TV star
Situation: Can't sing1

The following account is the story of Varlien Vanhostof.2

Varlien is--or, perhaps it would be better to say was--an actor. He appeared on several TV shows and commercials. He had a rather enthusiastic fan base, the source of quite a few fan fictions and fan art for the shows he starred in. They were also the source of the many security measures placed on his house to keep intruders from getting inside.3

Besides the rabid stalker fans, he had a pretty good life. He was making a lot of money, and his shows were getting the best ratings.4

But if that was all there was to say about him, he would not make a very interesting story, would he? If nothing bad happened to him, this would be a drastically boring tale, and I would advise you to stop reading right now. You might want to stop reading anyway, but go on if you like.5

Anyways, as I said at the beginning, it would be better to say "was an actor." "Was" is the key word. I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Well, I suppose I should start with the day of Varlien's birthday party from years ago, the one that was thrown to celebrate his becoming four years old. That should help you understand what I'm talking about.6

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"Varlien," a tall woman in a floral print dress said, sounding a bit exasperated, "it's your birthday. You're not supposed to sing to yourself; everyone else sings to you. Then you blow out the candles on your cake, and make a wish."8

A little boy looked up at her, large brown eyes imploring. "But Mommy, I wanna sing. It's my party, so I should get to do what I want, right?"9

She sighed. "I…well, I suppose…"10

The children nodded in agreement. Why shouldn't Varlien sing? After all, it was his birthday.11

They found out soon enough.12

Once the candles were lit, and the guests burst into song, Varlien joined them. No, scratch that. Varlien did not join them. He…killed them. His singing, if it could even be called that, smothered out their voices and screeched out through the air on off-key notes, setting off vibrations that crashed through the windows, breaking the glass in loud crackles of destruction.13

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Needless to say, Varlien had no more birthday parties. No one would come. They had good reason: a couple of the guests on that incidental day actually ended up deaf from the singing. The others were out cold for at least a couple hours. None of them wanted to have anything to do with Varlien after that.15

Varlien knew his singing was horrible. No one actually said so to his face, but he could tell from their reactions to his song. He was tone deaf, to put it bluntly.16

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"Mommy, nobody plays with me anymore," five-year-old Varlien Vanhostof sniffled, burying his face into his mother's shoulder. "Tell me the truth. Do you think I sing bad?"
She bit her lip, not sure what the best solution was to her dilemma. Lie to make him feel better, or tell him the truth, like he asked for her to do?18

"You don't have to answer," the boy said softly, looking at her with a seriousness that seemed far too intense for one of his age. "I can tell by your eyes."19

"Varlien," she said quietly. "It's okay that you can't sing. Everyone has different skills. You can be good at something else, instead."20

"But I wanna sing... I wanna sing, but I'm afraid to."21

The woman ruffled his hair, not knowing what to say.22

"Mommy, is it okay to cry?"23

A silent inclination of the head followed shortly. Seconds later, the shoulder of Mrs. Vanhostof's new blouse was soaked.24

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Perhaps you have heard the saying, "If you try and don't succeed, try, try again."26

That is how Varlien felt about his singing. He thought that if he tried again, he would get better at it. This way of thinking caused his mother to sign him up for singing lessons.27

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"Varlien Vanhostof, hmm?" the lady with the rectangular glasses said, tasting the name on her lips. "What a lovely name."29

"Thank you," Varlien said politely, looking at a poster on the wall.30

It was a glossy picture of the forest, with words that read: ~Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except the best.~31

Varlien's mother laughed. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Daltru." She gave her son one last peck on the cheek before waltzing out the door, promising to be back at five to pick him up.32

"Will you really teach me how to sing?" Varlien said eagerly.33

"Now now, little one, I cannot teach you how to sing. I can only help you teach yourself to sing," Mrs. Daltru told him, tossing her white blonde curls with a dramatic flourish.34

The dramatic effect was ruined, however, for just as she spoke, a wad of pink bubble gum fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing the top of her head.35

"Oh my," she said, backing away from the spot in which the gum laid on the floor. "That's been up there for years." She then gave a bubbly little laugh. "Well, let's get started, shall we?" Upon grabbing a pair of earplugs from her desk, she placed them so that they rested over her head, just over her ears. If things went badly enough, she could pull them down to stop hearing the noise.36

Singing instructors should always be prepared for the worst.37

"What are the earplugs for?" Varlien asked innocently.38

"Oh...you never know, they might just...come in handy..." she said lamely, making a mental note to herself to come up with a better answer to that question for the next person dumped in through her classroom door.39

"Okay," the boy said, giving a naive smile.40

Five-year-olds were so gullible.41

"Ahem..." She cleared her throat. "Repeat after me."42

"Ahem... Repeat after me," said Varlien.43

"Tra la la la la la la la la~!" his singing instructor sang, projecting her lilting voice so that it floated out, almost like a feather on streams of air.44

"TrA La la lA LA La la lA LA~!!"45

Mrs. Daltru winced at the knowledge that if it hadn't been for the earphones... She didn't know WHAT would have happened. And she didn't think she wanted to know, either.46

"Darling, you can stop repeating after me now. Excuse me, I need to call your mother."47

"Okay," the naive Varlien said, imagining himself singing onstage to the cheers of hundreds.48

The instructor left the classroom to use the phone.49

"Mrs. Vanhostof, I am sorry to say this, but your son is, for lack of a better term, a hopeless case. I don't know what made you think he would ever be able to sing, but whatever it was, you should not have listened to it. Please come and get him right away, thank you."50

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Obviously, the "try, try again" saying was not actually to be listened to.52

Like most people, Varlien did not want to be shunned. He didn't want people to laugh at him or run away from him or treat him like he was inferior. So he never sang again.53

At least, he didn't sing for a very long time. "Never" is a very definite term, and should not be used so loosely.54

When he became a TV star, he was happy. It all started with a commercial he did a year later, when he was six years old.55

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"This toothpaste tastes so good--I just wanna brush my teeth forever!" a small boy with chocolate brown hair said, flashing his adorable signature little kid smile.57

"Great! You've got the part, kid! Are you sure you've never done any commercials before? You did that like a natural!"
Varlien danced for joy. "Mommy, did you see that? I did it I did it I did it!!"58

"Why, yes, I did! Congratulations!" she said, wrapping him in a hug. "It looks like you've found your talent!"59

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Everybody bought the toothpaste. Soon Varlien was doing commercials almost twenty-four seven.61

By the time he was eighteen, practically everyone knew his name. His shows could be found on television at almost any time of the day, and an episode of one of them could often be seen on more than one channel at the same time.62

As I said, he was happy being a TV star. People liked him. He had fans. Of course, having fans wasn't always a good thing, as he learned when one of them tried to steal his possessions and auction them off to the highest bidder. Oh, the joys of E-bay…63

But still. Having fans who tried to steal from you was actually flattering, in a way. Although it was also a bit depressing, seeing as some of them would rather make money off of your stuff than go beg for your autograph.64

Of course, having his stuff stolen was nothing compared to what happened later.65

One fateful day, Varlien was forced to sing. In front of people. Millions of people. On television, via live broadcast. This could not end well.66

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Varlien stared at the microphone that was shoved into his face, almost up his nose. He could not believe he had been entered, behind his back, into some stupid singing contest known as the Singathon. Whoever had done this would pay. After he died onstage and suffered great public humiliation.68

"Var-li-en! Var-li-en! Var-li-en!" supporters from his fan base cheered from the audience, waving brightly colored banners and flags and posters.69

His eyes slowly closed. Great. He would lose all his fans, be booed offstage, be showered with rotten tomatoes, and deafen anyone tuned into this channel on TV--not to mention the audience gathered around him, all in one day. And yet, standing there on the stage, he found that the scene unfolding around him was exactly the one he had always dreamed of as a little kid. Ironic.70

"Dude, you're supposed to be, like, singing," the pianist said, tapping him on the shoulder.71

Varlien raised an eyebrow. Since when did classical musicians talk like teenagers with communication issues? Ah well. He would rather have the before-mentioned communication issues than have to do what he was about to do.72

Gulping, he tapped the microphone, creating a sound which bounced off the walls and back to him, in a serene echo effect. "Um, I hate to disappoint you, but…I don't sing."73

The audience members began muttering amongst themselves, grumbling about what a rip-off this was, and how they had thought they were finally going to hear ~the~ Varlien Vanhostof sing.74

"Varlien, you idiot!" his secretary hissed into his ear, her eyes sharpened like daggers. She was the one who answered Varlien's fan mail, made appointments for him to meet people, managed his schedule, and made him sign T-shirts to sell at his store. "This is great publicity for you! You'll gain twice as many fans as you had before!"75

Varlien opened his mouth to argue, but his voice was lost in a sea of angry chanting. The audience was getting restless, it seemed.76

"SING! SING! SING! SING! SING! SING! SING! SING!"77

So, Varlien singed. Sung. Sang. Yeah, that's it, "sang." Anyway, he sang, and the result was ear-shattering.78

Millions of televisions were smashed all over the world, in a desperate attempt to stop the sound of Varlien's voice at all cost.79

Well, Varlien had been wrong. He wasn't booed off the stage. He wasn't showered with tomatoes. But he did lose all his fans. Everyone passed out, which created the perfect time for him to make his escape.80

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Varlien's shows were soon cancelled, due to the potential danger of him randomly spurting out a song during an episode.82

Surprisingly, he still had a few fans, who kept running a website about him in which they posted photos of him and reviews on his singing. Apparently, there were a couple people who were crazy enough to think that singing as awfully as he did was a talent, and should be praised. Varlien had no idea how that worked, but he was glad that not everyone hated him.83

Even though he had more than enough money to live the rest of his life on, even after having to pay for hearing aids for all those who had been unfortunate to hear his performance at the Singathon, he decided he needed a job. Because he was bored.84

One day he was sitting at the piano, running his fingers over the keys. He was very surprised to find that no matter how rapidly and badly he played, the notes were not deafening. They always came out somewhat decent.85

Then an idea struck him. He loved to create songs, but what if he did not sing them? He could make songs, and if they were good enough, other people would pay HIM to be allowed to sing them. People would not have to hear his voice, but they could hear the songs the way he played them inside his head.86

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"I admit, I was a little scared about agreeing to this, but now I'm quite glad I did," a professional-looking man in a black suit said, shaking Varlien's hand. "I must say, you are much better at writing songs than you are at singing them."88

Mr. Vanhostof smiled, relieved. "Thank you, sir. You won't be sorry--"89

"Varlien, Varlien," the businessman laughed...90

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It appeared that even tone-deaf ex-television stars could get the right idea once in a while. And maybe the whole "try, try again" statement wasn't that off. It simply hadn't meant to try singing again -- what it had meant was to try things other than singing. Namely, songwriting.92

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Varlien woke up and switched on the radio, somehow managing hit the right button in spite of his sleep-clouded mind. The button clicked underneath his finger, giving way with a fluid movement. The tune that followed was so familiar to his ears, yet he was sure he'd never heard it on the radio before... He started humming along with the instruments, then sang just as the words flowed out from the speakers.94

Then his eyes flashed open.95

This was his song! His song!96

"Yes!" the former actor yelled, pumping his fist into the air. "Yes, yes, YES!!" He grabbed his hairbrush from off the desk and pulled it to stop just in front of his lips, then burst into song. Soon he was choreographing dance moves in front of his mirror, singing his heart out where no one could see him. More importantly, where no one could hear him. Ah, this was the life.97

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Who am I, you ask? I am Varlien Vanhostof, tone-deaf songwriter.