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1
Edgar Gets Going
The rise and fall and rise and fall of a fairly decent bass player 
Trevor Strong
 
2
CHAPTER 1
Waking up is hard to do
Edgar woke up. He should have been happy about this—after all, if you don’t wake up you’re probably dead or in a coma or something, although Edgar had been in a coma before and itwasn’t nearly as bad as you’d think. He looked around. His cat, Phillip the Third, was sitting onthe shirt he planned to wear; well, not planned exactly, it’s not like he’d drawn up a chart for theweek or anything, it’s just that it was a relatively clean shirt with very few coffee stains andEdgar thought he’d put it on. But now there was the cat problem. He’d barely started his day andalready he was facing an insurmountable obstacle.Edgar considered engaging Phillip the Third in a staring contest but thought better of it:no human can beat a cat in a staring contest—that’s one of the laws of nature. You can’toutwrestle a polar bear, you can’t outswim a dolphin, and you certainly can’t outstare a cat. Youwill lose and the cat will make you feel stupid for trying.Defeated, Edgar sat up and scanned the floor. It was bleak. There was his rugby shirt thathe could smell from across the room, a white T-shirt that was yellow (dark yellow) under the
 
3armpits, and his crusty leather jacket. Then, a miracle! Philip the Third tore out of the room tohunt down invisible enemies elsewhere in the apartment. Edgar leaned over, picked up therelatively clean shirt, and put it on—an unexpected victory! Maybe this would be a good dayafter all. He could use a good day.Edgar got out of bed and peeked through the cheap blinds on his tiny basement window.Outside, the bright noon-day sun was shining. This bugged him. He wanted it to rain. He wantedit to rain every single day for the rest of his life just like in the music videos he’d grown up with —you know, the ones for rock ballads where good love turns bad and the sky rips open bleedingwind and rain and everyone gets wet in a moody way? That’s what he wanted… although he alsoliked the videos where hot girls hang out by the pool and get splashed and moist and pouty. Yah,those were good too. Now fully dressed (he slept in his underwear), Edgar walked into theliving/kitchen/dining/den/recreation room where Phillip the Third was clinging to the wood- paneled wall. There was some pizza on the coffee table—and some other stuff as well: cigarette butts, Bass Player magazines, toenails—but it was the pizza he wanted. He picked up a slice, satdown on the grungy loveseat, and had breakfast.“You know,” he said to Phillip the Third, “this isn’t so bad.” But it was, and he knew it.He got back up, made his usual drink (root beer and rum), and sat back down again. He pickedup the remote and flipped through the channels.“Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.”He finally settled on the Home Shopping Network. The fake fur coat for sale was oddlyappealing and the model wearing it was one of his favourites. He liked the models on the HomeShopping Network; they always seemed so attainable, not like the skinny little tramps onFashion TV, no, not at all. The models on the Home Shopping Network were good-looking, but
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