You Can’t Stop The Music

(I am 12 years old. A few years ago, my dad died. He was the main breadwinner of the house, so my mom is now supporting the family. As money is tight, I occasionally take my violin out and perform for tips to get a bit more. I have arrangements with a local convenience store, so they allow me to play right out front. I am playing, when a customer from the store storms up to me.)

Customer: “What the f*** do you think you’re doing?”

Me: “Um… I’m busking, sir.”

Customer: “Cut that s*** out! There are people who need that money out there, unlike you!”

Me: “Dude, I do need thi—”

(The customer then grabs my violin, and smashes it repeatedly against the ground, the wood splintering until it’s a pile of demolished wood. I am on the verge of tears, before the employee who works in the store comes outside.)

Employee: “What the f*** do you think you’re doing?”

Customer: “This little s*** is stealing from people who really need money! He should be punished!”

(The employee calls back into the store.)

Employee: “Hey, call the cops!”

(The customer shoves the employee to the ground, and kicks him in the ribs. A small crowd has gathered around us, when a tall man wearing a long black trench coat walks up.)

Tall Man: “Hey, a**-hat! Pick on someone your own size!”

(The two began to fight, throwing some punches around. Unfortunately, the customer who broke my violin knocks the wind out of the tall man. I have had enough, and I snap. I have been sitting, cradling the stem of my violin, but now I stand up.)

Me: “Hey f***-face!”

(The customer turns around, just in time to get a violin neck to the crotch. He collapses, not even making a sound. The cops arrive and arrest him. Later on, he is forced to pay a fine, and damages. I get a brand spanking new violin, and keep on busking. My family’s income is now stable, and everything’s fine, but I still cherish the memory of the tall man who came to my rescue. I never got his name, but thank you.)