I’ve been preoccupied obsessively worrying about something, and am hoping a lurking primitive can ameliorate my fears by saying something on Skins’s island about it.
If one’s been paying attention to the news, one’s sure to know that the sparkling old dude, the “StinkyTheClown” primitive and his much-younger trophy wife, “Sparkly,” have been in mortal peril because of severe floods ravaging their suburb near Baltimore.
The waters rose fast, and have risen high.
The flood was sort of a, uh, rude surprise, and came on suddenly with little or no warning, and obviously no time at all to make safe those things damaged by rising water (by removing them to higher ground, usually).
The sparkling old dude’s much-younger trophy wife owns—one’s not sure to use the present, or past, tense here—a massive grand piano, an antiquity, an heirloom, a magnificent example of pianery, that had been left her by her father, who’d been a professor of music at some pricey private college in Connecticut.
It’s a magnificent thing, this piano, and its loss would be catastrophic, not only to the sparking old dude and his much-younger trophy wife, but also to anyone anywhere who appreciates fine music.
Okay, so the flood waters came, they came suddenly, and they came highly.
This piano’s very large and very heavy.
If it’s been saved—which one certainly hopes it has been—how does one suppose the sparkling old dude managed to save it?
