I Never Can Think of Anything Original

This morning as I was sleep-shivering under my floral blankets, I was awakened by the playing of the piano. Normally this is a pleasant thing to slide one's eyelids up to. Today however it was horrid. Whoever was playing kept forcefully plunking at the same notes over and over and over and over and over and over and over again... It was driving me mad! As I was fighting the animalistic urge to tear down the stairs and pull a Mike Tyson on the amateur pianist's fingers, my brother slammed open the door of my shoebox room and demanded the removal of my body from it's horizontal position. Trying to contain the internal growing chaos, I inquired about the pathetic pianist. He looked at me like I had a third eye, smirked, and stated the piano tuner was hard at work in the music room. Hmmm. Good thing I didn't bite the pianists' fingers off. He needs them as a means of survival...
(Kristin Weber)