Friday, February 20, 2015


I sat down at the piano and attempted to play, but being completely untrained, unpractised and unco-ordinated, the sounds coming out were not especially harmonious. The piano whispered to me, "gimme a little drink, and I'll play myself". Then it winked with it's keys. So I opened up the lid, got a bottle of whisky from the cabinet and poured a good splash over the piano wires and hammers. "Oh yes, that's the stuff", said the piano, seeming to leer somehow via it's keys. "I haven't had a stiff drink in so long". It started to play some rollicking barrel-house piano, tipping back and forth in a rather dangerous manner as it did so. I was a little scared I may be crushed, but the music (and the booze, which I also had a swallow of) was so intoxicating I couldn't help but abandon my self to dance and flicking my hair around in the manner of Cab Calloway. After ten minutes or so the piano slowed down and came to a stop. "Now, Boy," said the piano, "make me a martini and I'll play some smooth cocktail jazz for your dinner date tonight."

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