I agreed to deconstruct six pianos in a church.
They were located on the third floor of the building. As near as the caretaker and I could figure, they had been muscled up the stairs sometime in the 1920s, then the staircases had been reconstructed so there was no way of removing them whole. Then the roof leaked and they got damaged- so the church wanted them out of there.

A friend of mine volunteered to help in exchange for the ivory from the keys. I could think of no use for it- I was mainly after the bigger pieces of wood, which appeared to be mahogany (it was a veneer, dammit), so I agreed. We quickly figured out the most efficient way of dismantling it to pieces that could be carried down, and I laid claim to the hammer boards as well as they were wooden linkages and therefore pretty cool.

We completed the job and Charlie carried home the keys. "Only a couple of pianos had ivory, though," he told me. "The rest were acetate."

"Oh. So why do you want them?"

He gave me an odd grin. "There are things you can do with acetate if you know how."*

Some time later there were reports of explosions around the city. I guess he was deconstructing other things himself...



*No, I had no idea what he meant by that. I should have known.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 8 Nov 2012, 14:03, 3 replies)

you unknowingly helped a terrorist?

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Thu 8 Nov 2012, 14:32, closed)

Not exactly.
More a guy who gets a rush out of explosions. He likes to freak out people with loud noises, especially people who've pissed him off, and typically gets his revenge at night when he can get away...

...well, okay, yes.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 8 Nov 2012, 14:37, closed)

I was certain
that this was going to end up with the words "You 'um it, I'll play it, son".



Milk, no sugar please.
(Rsoles, Thu 8 Nov 2012, 19:51, closed)