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Tue Aug 09, 2011 10:42 am

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"The collapse of the stellar universe will occur-- like creation-- in grandiose splendor."

-Blaise Pascal

Im no good with introductions, so Ill get to the point.

Johnathan Baizzes studio was on the eighth floor of an apartment building. It was a good life; he had a view of Central Park and almost a view of the museum, although it was a short walk there and he would spend many idle days at the museum, sitting in the foyer, or accompanying a famous painting and using it for inspiration. For you see, Johnathan was a composer by profession, so there was no better place to work than the museum.

Johnathan spent so much time at the museum that many of the guards knew him by name, although they probably only bothered to remember because his name was well-known, although not too well-known, but just enough to get him into the right places. Johnathan was also familiar with the curator, who he had gone to college to, and who actually visited him in the museum once or twice. Johnathan practically lived in the museum; his only purpose of his studio was for having company over, sleeping, preparing meals, and doing taxes. He would often prepare a meal and bring it over to the museum to eat it there.

One could say that there was no more vital structure in Jonathans life than this museum. It was his inspiration and his shelter.

Enough about the museum, though, its of no importance whatsoever in this story.

This story is about Johnathans grand piano, which he had sold, and how he was to get it out of his studio to give it to the buyer.

He would need the most expensive moving company for this task, of course, and as it happened, there was a company in town that exclusively moved pianos out of apartment buildings. It was not the most expensive company, though. Johnathan had called them, of course, but they didnt do pianos.

Yes, thats right, I need my piano removed from my apartment, Johnathan said over the phone.

Ah, exclaimed the moving company employee. And what is your address?

--------------------- Street.

And its a regular piano?

Er, yes, said Johnathan, who was not really thinking about the question because some one had just rung his doorbell. Trying to end the conversation so he could see who was visiting, he hurried the rest of the phone call.

Who was visiting Johnathan is actually not central to the plot, not at all, so I wont even name who it is or what their business was with him. The purpose of having a visitor was that because of this visitor, Johnathan wrongly answered the question of whether it was a regular piano or not, since it was of course a grand piano. This presents the main conflict of the story¦ How so, might you wonder? Youll soon find out.

When the movers arrived, there were four of them, all of whom looked like regular movers. They werent regular movers, though, because piano moving is a discreet business. As I need not mention, as it has been frequently depicted in cartoons and films, the only way to get a piano in or out of an apartment building is to use pulleys to lower or raise it from or onto the street. It would seem like this practice is rare nowadays; indeed, it is, for most pianos are never moved from their original homes. Johnathans grand piano was there when he moved into the studio; in fact, it had been there for almost eighty years. Most pianos stay in one spot; its the nature of pianos.

Anyway, So lets see the piano, the head mover said. Johnathan led them into the room, and the instant the head mover saw the piano, he dropped his toolbox in shock. His assistants, too, dropped whatever their equipment they were holding, the shock was so great in seeing a grand piano.

Noticing something was wrong, Johnathan asked the head mover why they had all dropped their tools and were now seemingly in a trance.

Th- this is a GRAND piano! stammered the mover. We dont do grand pianos! No sir, you cant lower a grand piano out a window. Its impossible, it cant be done. Why, look at the equipment we have¦ just a single pulley and a few boards.

Well, how in the hell can I move a grand piano out, then? cried Johnathan, who was visibly upset, and with good reason.

The only way to move a grand piano, sir, is to take it apart piece by piece, what so to reassemble it later.

Well, do that then.

Nope, sir, we aint qualified to do that, youll have to call a grand piano expert. It just so happens I dont think there are any in town right now, though, theyre a rare breed.

But I need my piano moved! It MUST be moved! The seller expects it today! If he doesnt get it today, I could get negative feedback on Ebay!

Well¦ the head mover paused, then acted like he was about to say something, but then didnt say anything, then acted like he was never planning to say anything in the first place, and had never even said Well.

Well, WHAT?! cried Johnathan.

Well, there is ONE man¦.. hes not technically a piano mover, or expert, or anything to do with pianos. Hes an adv-

No, Robert! interrupted one of the other movers. Not Chris Chrisado!

Well, who else?! Im just trying to help the man! snarled the head mover, and the mover who had spoke up began to burst in the tears. The others also looked apprehensive.

Well all get fired now, sobbed a third mover, as the fourth mover too began to cry. Wes all gonna lose our jobs, just for sayin his name.

Tell me about this Chris Chrisado, said Johnathan, intrigued.

I shouldnt, said the head mover, Its a terribly long story.

Thats alright, Im not doing anything else today, said Johnathan. Tell me about him.

Sir, honestly, I cant, its so long that we would miss our next appointment if I tried to tell it.

Johnathan argued back, and the argument went on for nearly an hour before the head worker insisted that they had another job to do, and him and his colleagues quickly shuffled out of the studio, leaving Johnathan Baizze standing baffled. He was still curious about this Chris Crusado character, but he decided to let sleeping dogs lie and try to find some one to disassemble his piano.

Im inclined to tell you the story of Chris Chrisado the adventurer; oh! I want to so badly, for it is such an unbelievable and amazing tale, but I honestly cant, I havent the time and we must keep talking about Johnathan and his piano.

Oh, please tell it to us! cried a boy in the front row.

Yes, we dont care about the piano, said a young girl of age 5.

Oh, I really shouldnt, young ones, I said, Although theres nothing inappropriate for ones of your age, Im sure the orphanage would not want me telling you action and adventure stories such as the one of Chris Chrisado. Saying this, I glanced over at the Mother Superior, giving her one of those looks, telling her with my eyes, ˜Please let these young children hear the story. They have nothing else in the world but stories. After pondering it for almost three minutes, she nodded her approval. Thus, I began the tale of Chris Chrisado, adventurer extraordinaire, which goes like this:

Okay, spray him down, said the head guard.

The other guards turned on the fire hose, aiming it towards the naked prisoner, who was sneezing from an allergic reaction to the delousing powder. They tossed him his clothes as his sneezing got worse. "Suck it up, f*****," sneered one of the guards. "You'll have much worse happen to you here." His eyes were also puffy, and his whole face was a bit red. He was pushed along to his cell without care, though.

The next morning, as all the prisoners were to stand outside of their cells after waking up, the prisoner I previously mentioned did not come outside of his cell. This was because he was dead; his allergic reaction to the delousing powder had been severe indeed; this was what killed the poor man.

Cut to suburban Detroit- a man and his wife are eating dinner alone. They have no children; not yet, at any rate. The husband has a good job with an insurance firm, and the wife is a nurse, and they can afford a perfectly decent home. Still, something (besides children) was lacking in their lives. A phone call would change all of that.

The wife answered it as the husband listened on: Yes?..... Yes¦.. Oh God -----!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ----------- Yes¦¦¦.No, its okay¦¦Thank you.

What on Earth is wrong? asked the husband.

Chris... it's your brother¦ he was killed in prison on the first day.

Chris Chrisado dropped his fork. It took a magnificent bounce off of his plate, flying end over end onto the floor, clanging to the ground, rattling for several seconds, and then finally laying still, like a vase. His one and only beloved brother, and only surviving family member- who had never done a thing wrong in his life and was in prison for God knows what reason- had seen his last day.

Chris decided right then and there, that he would have his revenge! He decided to do something drastic, extraordinary, and seemingly impossible. Just as he was about to announce it to the world, the door busted down. He went for his Sten in the kitchen cupboard...

Suddenly, I remembered that I had an appointment that it was absolutely essential that I keep. I stopped telling the story dead in my tracks, unsure what to tell the little orphans who were hanging on every word. I had paused for nearly two whole minutes, before I managed to think up of something to say.

Uh, children¦ Well, I suppose you can guess what happens for the rest of the story. Its not unlike many adventure stories you might have heard. I honestly havent got the time to tell it, I have to meet with my agent regarding the release of my newest book. But I promise to give each and every one of you free copies once its published!

The children were upset at first, but due to my clever promise of free books, which I fully intend to keep, their sorrow passed, and I was allowed to leave after signing several autographs.


Mudat Hui Ek Shakhs Ko Bichrey Lekin
Aaj Tak Maire Dil Pe Ek Nishaan Baaqi Hai


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