by Marzipan P. Marmot
a trumpet has a bell
but you shouldn't hit it like a bell
it will dent
[photo: Wynton Marsalis]
MARZ: But you have to explain this. It doesn't make sense.
This does NOT mean copy down everything I say!!!
[laughs; stabs your typist in the arm with a pen; hangs head when this has no effect]
THIS IS NOT EXPLAINING IT!
FREX: OK, so... explain it. I won't type it until
MARZ: YOU'RE TYPING THAT YOU WON'T TYPE IT!!!
FREX: [typing] [scerad,td.fd,g]ouf]p''[rbdft
MARZ: NOW YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN THAT! Now there's even more to explain. STOP!!!
[hits back of chair of your typist]
FREX: [scerad,td.fd,g]ouf]p''[rbdft looks like it looks because I was typing with a pillowcase over my head, placed there by one Marzipan P. Marmot.
OK, really now. Here's what happened.
This morning, instead of writing my [Frex's] resume, I sat on the couch with Marz and made up a song off the top of my head. It was terrible and I don't remember anything except it ended with
"Juice, juice, juice, juice."
Then I quizzed Marz on the properties of brass instruments. (She plays trumpet.)
"Trumpet," she said, "has a nice color."
"What's the color?" I said.
And she said, "It's not a particular color, it's just a brightness, like glossy paint instead of matte."
I said I think I prefer the darker smokier sounds of, I guess sax and trombone.
"Tenor sax," Marz clarified. "That's what Captain Kirk plays."
Then I asked her to compose a poem about the trumpet, unpremeditatedlyish,
and the above poem was the result.
"Justin Bieber Playing Trumpet" from Gifninja.