I have a confession. All classical piano is in my mind set to Tom and Jerry.
There they go slipping across the kitchen floor to the adaigo. Now for a slew of utensils that impale themselves in timely musical fashion against a yellow wall. Next, the practiced dance of dip-and-swipe-and-wriggle stirring the senses to fever pitch. Then, a couple of gentle mouse-pirouettes, the near escape, the triumphant grab and a close-up on teeth and slavering chops. Closer. Closer. But, ho! What's this? A hesitation on the keys? The smell of burning? Confusion ensues, culminating with a crescendo of yowls and a tail that looks suspiciously like a waffle iron.
No comments:
Post a Comment