Wayne enjoyed doing things. While all the other cicadas stayed underground and did nothing but drink the sap of tree roots, Wayne read travel guides, and taught himself to play the guitar, much to the embarrassment of his parents.
”What a disgrace you are," said Wayne"s father, who was slumped over, his head in his front legs. ”Why can't you do nothing with your life, like all of the other nymphs? Who's going to marry someone who's spent 17 years living a life that had a point, one that consisted of more than drinking tree sap, and then emerging from the ground to mate, die, and become food for birds?"
When it became clear that Wayne wasn't going to change, his father kicked him out.
“You're doing absolutely something with your life," said his father, "absolutely something."
So Wayne, with nothing but his guitar and a backpack full of tree root sap, set out into the world. He saw the tops of mountains, the bottoms of the oceans, and everything in between. He flew on wings of eagles. He had countless conversations that lasted until sunrise.
He soon met some like-minded outcast cicadas. They formed a band, The Above Grounders, and became a staple of the college music scene, playing all across this fair land.
When all the other cicadas emerged from the ground and played the kind of shrill, boring music you'd expect from creatures who spent 17 years underground doing nothing but drinking tree root sap, Wayne's band played songs of the places they'd been, the things they'd done, and the people they'd met.
They passed down their knowledge, so that every summer, as most cicadas play their piercing whine, a band of thumb sized musicians play music full of zest and life.
”What a disgrace you are," said Wayne"s father, who was slumped over, his head in his front legs. ”Why can't you do nothing with your life, like all of the other nymphs? Who's going to marry someone who's spent 17 years living a life that had a point, one that consisted of more than drinking tree sap, and then emerging from the ground to mate, die, and become food for birds?"
When it became clear that Wayne wasn't going to change, his father kicked him out.
“You're doing absolutely something with your life," said his father, "absolutely something."
So Wayne, with nothing but his guitar and a backpack full of tree root sap, set out into the world. He saw the tops of mountains, the bottoms of the oceans, and everything in between. He flew on wings of eagles. He had countless conversations that lasted until sunrise.
He soon met some like-minded outcast cicadas. They formed a band, The Above Grounders, and became a staple of the college music scene, playing all across this fair land.
When all the other cicadas emerged from the ground and played the kind of shrill, boring music you'd expect from creatures who spent 17 years underground doing nothing but drinking tree root sap, Wayne's band played songs of the places they'd been, the things they'd done, and the people they'd met.
They passed down their knowledge, so that every summer, as most cicadas play their piercing whine, a band of thumb sized musicians play music full of zest and life.
