I used to be a singer.  Okay, maybe that's not quite true.  I was a singer - only, I was a singer without an audience.  No matter what I tried, no matter how well I sang, I could never manage to keep an audience interested for more than a few seconds at the most.

It was very disheartening.

I kept at it, though, persisting in the face of incredible odds, trying desperately to find the right crowd.

I never succeeded.

At first, I was annoyed, irritated by their lack of response.  I knew I was good.  There was nothing bad about my singing - yet no one would listen to me.  The worst was when they actually ran away, though.  That made me seethe with anger, anger that built slowly and steadily into a full-blown rage which I let loose on those who had so offended me.

I took vengeance upon them all.  Repeatedly.

It didn't make any difference.

After a while, I stopped feeling angry.  I stopped feeling anything at all.  I didn't know what to do with myself.  I loved singing, but without an audience it was rather pointless.  Without my music I was left empty, devoid of any purpose or reason for being.

Then I met Simon.

At first I thought he was just like the others - but I soon found out that he was actually deaf.  I pitied him, being unable to hear the sweet melody of life that I had once attempted to capture in song - but I was grateful to him also.  In him, I found a friend.

It was strange at first - I'd never known anyone who actually wanted me to stay with them before.  Everyone else either ignored me, or ran away.

I decided I liked having a friend.  It made me glad, much the way my music once had - even more so because he shared my feelings.  He liked me, I liked him.  Our meeting was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

That wasn't all though.

He could draw.

I used to doodle a lot, but he was a true artist.  It was through his pictures that I identified a kindred soul - we were both artists, our talents unrecognised by the world.  That lack of acknowledgment rekindled the fire in my soul - not on my own behalf, but on his.

I may not have been able to make people listen to me, but I could certainly make them look!  I set about showing people just what my friend could do -

- and the people came.  They marveled at his artwork, praised him thoroughly, and - most importantly - they made him happy.  He was overwhelmed by the adoration they poured upon him, as he was always rather shy.  I decided to help take some of the pressure off him and stepped into the spotlight with him.

Big mistake.

I guess it wasn't all that bad, really.  Simon told me not to worry about it - but it did kind of deaden the atmosphere that one time.  I learned to keep my mouth shut after that.  At least when we were in public.  In private, I sang my heart out for him, letting him know of my own joy.  We invented all sorts of contraptions to help him 'hear' my song, and that was almost as much fun as singing itself.

Drawing was fun, too.  It took a lot of effort - and lots of lessons, which Simon fortunately never tired of giving me - but in the end my artwork was displayed along with his.  I was moderately famous at last - even if it wasn't for my first and most precious talent.

More importantly, I had a friend who cared for me.  He said he owed me a lot, but in truth I owed him just as much.  I led a very lonely life before I met him.  He might not have been able to hear my song properly, but he listened to me in his own way.

He even helped me get me a recording contract, and designed the cover for my first album: 'A Path to Dreamland'.  After so many rejections, it was a dream come true...

We've been together for quite some time now.  We make a good team, he says, and we'll be together forever.

I certainly hope so.  I tell him that every day.

"Jiggly," I say.  "Jigglypuff!"