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The filthy piano was blanketed with filthy objects, the most acoustically significant being a blood-besmeared shoehorn. The shoehorn resonated each time the piano produced a certain note, which occured quite often in the maddeningly repetitive tune that was currently being played,and as the musician entered the final crescendo of circus music, the shoehorn began to rattle, moving across the scratched finish of the great instrument, moving through the collection of random, unhappy things that accompanied it on the piano.

Beads of sweat had begun to appear on the pianist's forehead, which had long since drawn itself into a vaguely delta shaped knot, and his left temple seemed to be flipping itself inside out and back in, to the beat. The Shoehorn's progress across the piano was blocked as it collided with a plastic magnifying glass, one side of which was stained and encrusted with charred insect entrails. The musician concentrated intensely as he began the final bar of the composition.

A few notes from the end he blew the glowing orange contents of his pipe vigorously into the air, bit the pipe in half, and exploded in an awe-inspiring nimbus of blood and finely powdered meat, extinguishing the few twinkling sparks that remained from the pipe eruption.

The crowd went wild.

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