Gold Mine or Money Pit?

A few years from now when I am panhandling off of San Antonio's Interstate 410, I want it to be clear that I predicted this from the outset. For most people, this story begins with an overly luxurious lifestyle where money-out exceeds money-in. So, as I stare at the most recent addition to our family, my one comfort is that we will be the exception, and years from now someone will be surprised to hear that we can confidently point to the day it all began... And I'm not talking about the garden of Eden either... I'm talking about our new donkey, which happens to be a baby-grand piano. With not a string in tune nor a surface unscuffed, I am confident that its tinny sound will bring endless hours of entertainment for years to come. She was born in 1928 and has spent the last decade in an non-air-conditioned storage box in San Antonio... which, oh by the way, had 57 consecutive days of 100+ degrees in 2011. Her name is Baldweena, she is a Scorpio, and she enjoys long van rides to air conditioned houses once a decade. the piano's keyboard looks like the inside of a Carney's mouth, and trying to balance on its rickety piano bench is like riding a dog that's passing a peach pit.

You might well be asking yourself why we chose to adopt a piano in such aesthetic and structural disrepair. But that's like asking why a cheddar wurst in lieu of a filet mignon? Because it's a cheddar wurst for goodness sakes! When you order a filet, you are probably going to end up with a deliciously juicy hunk of meat and a steady stream of grease and blood dripping from the corners of your mouth... Boring!!! Cheddar wurst is the Russian Roulet of foods! So you can go and enjoy your thick filet of a piano and I will laugh at you as I dodge geysers of molten cheese that may or may not permanently disfigure my face... Piano up!

 

Baldweena... the donkey.

Yes! It's supposed to sound like that!