Crikey, I wake up and I’m b-flat!
I mean I’m actually the note, 466.164 Hz,
it’s Kafka’s Metamorphosis except I’m a tone
instead of a cockroach.
Holy crap, here come the arpeggios
and plink! Blam! Down come the keys!
Argh! No! No! Now the bow saws strings across me,
Now I’m flapping like a warbler
in the throat of this singer.
Where, oh where is harmony?
I beg musica universalis, music of the spheres
to release me,
yet here I stay, imprisoned
behind bars, banging my little tin cup
on the iron staves.
Miz Quickly
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Scratch Space 
Ain’t nuthin flat ’bout this piece; that’s fer sure!
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LOL!
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Hurry up! Wake up!! Don’t B♭ no more!!
Reminds me of a few night-terrors I’ve had!
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Holy cow, Sir! What a visual! This is so so good. I can see the note, and his tiny cup.
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Thank you! BTW, if you have a sec, nudging you over to something I wrote a while back, one of my betterish efforts: http://qbit.blog/2022/11/06/on-reading-four-small-bees/
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Where, oh where is harmony? Check
You are a word maestro.
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Such a vivid description of what a nervous wreck music is so often provoked into being
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Genius
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I wish I could B#
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LOL!
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