Dexter Fort eyed the player piano in the corner of the antique shop. Mahogany wood in mint condition.
“Plays Ofmin, Winegate, Pallel,” boasted the dealer.
Dexter, a promising piano student, looked perplexed. He’d never heard of these composers.
“Rare,” continued the dealer. “Eerie too, legend has it that this piano swallows up unknown talent, keeping the music and the composer only for herself.”
“It’s odd anyway,” said Dexter, unfazed, as he took out his checkbook.
“You’re pretty odd yourself,” replied the dealer. “In those red-checkered pants, green socks, and those shoes… whew! You part of a circus golfing team?!”
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