Haunted House Archives - 2021

[Haunted House]

Again, the cheeky Haunted house appeared, looking for new friends. One by one, it accepted victims visitors.
These are their stories.

[Haunted House]

KIRA

Upon entering the house, you find yourself standing not in an entryway, but rather an old and dusty parlor. Behind you, the door has disappeared, and there is only a wall, with floral paper peeling from the plaster. The room itself seems slightly in disarray, but perhaps this is simply from the ravages of time itself. A piano stands next to a window with tattered drapes that were once a vibrant green, open and oddly… letting in a grey ambient glow, as if on a cloudy day, though when you entered… it was dark outside. In the middle of the room is sitting furniture, a settee, two chairs, a low table between, and a single side table with a simple notepad with a message scrawled in an elegant hand. On the side opposite the piano sits a hearth, cold and unlit, though perhaps before it was abandoned, it was quite warm, if the ash settled on the bottom is any indication. The only sound to be heard is the steady ticking of a small clock on a cabinet with many shelves and trinkets.

There are no doors, and the windows are eerie and off-putting. What will you do?

Kira looked about, and suddenly noticed something. She looked for her lover. “Mira?”

Strangely, you are... alone.

She took stock of her surroundings. A moment of concern crossed her mind, but there was a more present matter. She read the message on the note first.

"I need your help."

She checked for signal on her phone idly. No intent on using it, but probably a good idea to check. She looked at the time on the clock, then inspected the piano, strumming a few keys and listening to anomalies as she looked it over.

No service. The piano was slightly out of tune... and missing four keys.

What four keys are missing?

F#. A. D. E.

Kira looked closely at the hearth, both the ash and the stone around it.

Beside the mouth of the hearth was a shovel and ash bucket. There was a scritching on the notepad.

"In the winter, it keeps us warm and toasty, but it sure is a nuisance to clean!"

Kira looked around the room, looking for doors to the rest of the house.

There are no doors in this room.

Kira took the shovel to sift through the ash in the hearth.

At the bottom of all the ash there was a clatter of something solid.

She shifted the ash to uncover whatever it was.

There at the bottom... A single piano key.

Kira took the piano key and placed it in a pocket. Then she checked the ash in the ash pail.

The pail is empty. All the ash is in the hearth!

Kira shoved the ash from the hearth into the pail, mindful of any further items. Nice and clean now.
She then checked both tables for any items, aside from the notepad.

The low table holds a tea set with a three tired serving tray. The cups and saucers are in a disarray. The note pad scratches...

"A tea party!? Why, yes! We should make our guests feel welcome and show them how good we are at preparing a nice tea!"

Kira checked inside the tea pot, the tea cups, and any other dishes on the tray.

The pot clicked when picked up... And inside was another key.

That key joined the first in the pocket. By the way, what colors were the two keys? She checked before moving on.

One black. One white. Both marked.
F#
A

Was there anything else with the tea set?

Perhaps only the sad sense that nobody had gotten to enjoy their tea that day.

A shame indeed. The tea connoisseurs said a silent prayer for the lost souls.

She arranged the tea set into a proper setting, ready to be served.

She took a moment to think and looked at the first notepad again. Any change?

A gentle scratching as words appeared on the paper.

"Light should never lie down. Light is upstanding, and gets us through dark times!"

Next to the settee embroidered with pastoral scenes and dancing women in big skirts was a toppled gas lamp, long empty.

Ah, that reminded Kira of Ellie.

Kira checked the oil lamp closely, inspecting it.

It simply lay quietly. Dark and lonely.

Kira checked the wick and inside the oil well.

Was the lamp picked up for this?

Not yet.

A crack in the well had emptied it into the carpet long ago, and the wick was burned quite unevenly.

Now, Kira lifted the lamp to look at the casing and the glass, careful of anything spilling or falling out.

From the shade tumbled a piano key.
D.

That joined the others in the pocket. One last look over, maybe wiping at the glass with the edge of her poncho, before replacing it on the table, straightened up. Anything else on the table of note?

No changes here. The pad scratched.

"The milkmaids frolic where everyone sits, and they know where all the secrets are."

Kira looked at the clock earlier. What time was it then? She checked the clock again at this time. What time is it showing?

4:00. Tea time. Thank goodness the table is set for guests!

Has it changed?

The clock seems to keep the same time, down to the second. Despite the ticking.

Kira looked at the seats. The seats themselves, the upholstery, and the wall around them.

All of the embroidered maids seemed to be facing toward the space between two back cushions.

Kira looked closely, then moved the cousins, if they would, with gentle pulling. No forcing.

They did not move, but the space widened when one was tugged... Just enough to catch a glimpse of something white.

Kira took a piece of chalk from her pocket and used it to fish the item from between the cushions.

A final piano key fell from the space.
E.

Into the pocket. She took a moment to brush away any incidental chalk dust, and any other debris she could find, from the cushions. She checked the notepad again.

"Do you like music?"

Kira smiled. “Indeed, I do.” She took a short moment to check the cabinets for anything of note without opening before returning to the piano.

Cute little bric-a-bracs. Ceramic cats and little angel children in the Precocious Memories style. Very cute, with big sad eyes!

Anything that needed tidying, she took time to do so. She returned to the notepad and turned to the next page. She took a pen from her pocket and wrote a message.

In case our time is short, I have appreciated the story you’ve shared. I hope you are at peace. -K

"I was lonely. I made friends tonight."

The words faded in... and then out of view. And then a tiny piano was drawn.

Kira turned to the piano, retrieving the keys. She checked carefully as she placed them on the piano. She pressed the keys in the order she found them.

F# A D E

The notes sounded perfect. Each one set into place beautifully.

On the notepad, a final clue.

"Play a song that I cannot hear."

Kira considered, then tried another order.

D E A F#

A rumble rolled through the house...

You find yourself unceremoniously spat out! You are somewhat covered in saliva as you tumble onto grass. Next to you is one of the little ceramic figures. A sad eyed little Victorian girl with a tiny smile, a jaunty little hat, and a curly haired puppy dangling from her arms.

THE END.

[Haunted House]

STITCH

Upon entering the house, you find yourself standing not in an entryway, but rather an old and dusty parlor. Behind you, the door has disappeared, and there is only a wall, with floral paper peeling from the plaster. The room itself seems slightly in disarray, but perhaps this is simply from the ravages of time itself. A piano stands next to a window with tattered drapes that were once a vibrant green, open and oddly… letting in a grey ambient glow, as if on a cloudy day, though when you entered… it was dark outside. In the middle of the room is sitting furniture, a settee, two chairs, a low table between, and a single side table with a simple notepad with a message scrawled in an elegant hand. On the side opposite the piano sits a hearth, cold and unlit, though perhaps before it was abandoned, it was quite warm, if the ash settled on the bottom is any indication. The only sound to be heard is the steady ticking of a small clock on a cabinet with many shelves and trinkets.

There are no doors, and the windows are eerie and off-putting. What will you do?

Stitch grinned at the change in surroundings and swept his gaze over the the room and windows. The notepad was what he first approached.

The notepad reads: "I need your help."

Brows knit. He looked around for a pen or.. some other writing utensil.

On the floor next to the table, tucked just under the edge of the settee... there is an old broken pencil.

He noticed the pencil and scooped it up to write a question mark on the page with whatever lead was exposed and able. It was carried with him to the window so he might peek through the curtains.

Beyond the window is nothing but featureless grey. Mostly. From the corner of the eye, dark shapes can be caught moving. The question mark slowly grows ears. And a face. It turns into a child-like drawing of a dog. Just beneath, there is a drawn picture of a little chair.

Disappointed he couldn't see out the front at who might have shown up, he looks back at the notepad and snorts. "Cheeky bugger." Nevertheless, he hangs onto it and moseys to the piano to tap one of the lower keys, and looks back over the room while he holds it down.

The note plays discordantly. A second glance might reveal four keys missing.

He didn't think he had the time to improvise a piece around missing keys, tempting though it was. He peered closer to see which keys they were.

A. E. F#. D

Squint. He looks back at the drawing on the notepad and over at the chairs. Are they the same? He draws another question mark.

They're the best representation they could be.

Well. He closes that distance, and shoves one of the chairs with a foot to the arm. A nudge in his mind.

Skrrrrrrrt! the chair was heavy, and old. It moved a few feet back away with the push. Somewhere, there was a muffled giggle.

Ears perk. Did it come from another room?

Just above! A pair of ghostly eyes peeking... and then gone.

Smirk. "Oi! C'mou' you. Won' bi'e.." Without taking his eyes off the ceiling, he shoved the chair again.

A scratching noise came from the notepad. "Sit!"

He opted out of offense taken, though not without narrowed eyes, and plopped into the chair.

PBBBBBLLLLLTTTTT. What a rude noise. And yet there was a gleeful cackle, and another scratching at the pad. "What fun! There is a surprise in the settee..."

He snickered. Playful spirits were a delight. "Wha' the fack is a se'ee.." Nose scrunched, but he figured it out by process of elimination. He approached, and literally.. tore into it.

Milkmaids all over the Settee looked horrified! Mostly they were pointing between cushions. But no problem! eventually... a piano key fell out.

"Oh." The piano key was regarded with amusement that might've been sheepish if he had any shame. He grabbed the piano key and brought it over to click it into an empty spot.

Click. It fit perfectly. If pressed, the tone was Just right.

Which of course, he did, and peered back at the ceiling in the process.

Little fingers wrapped around an exposed beam immediately disappeared, along with the childish face peering and watching intently.

He grinned, and decided he did have time, just a bit, to give the kid some music. The beast settled onto the piano bench and wiggled his claws over the keys, deciding.

It started with a meandering descent from the highest octave to the lowest. Playful in return, sometimes taking a step back before three more were taken forward, avoiding the key he'd just placed.

He paused, and played the first few notes of Clair de Lune, which included that note. He held it again.

There was a soft hum... And a scribble on the notepad.
"The ceramic children are quiet as mice, but when the lights go out, they play such games! They should really learn to pick up after themselves, to avoid being caught."
On the shelves of the cabinet were various toppled figurines.

He may have continued further into the song while the message was written. When the scribbling had come to an end, he stopped and spun around to eye the cabinet. "Or pick themselves up." He assumed those were the children in question, and went to do just that. He followed little breadcrumbs well enough.

Setting the figures right revealed behind them a second key.

A key. That probably led to something, so he grabbed it, and had to right another figurine in the process. Big hands, tiny space. He looked around for a lock.

Oops... Piano key! Houses sometimes get a bit scrambled. And the little ghost child laughs at it.

He blinked when he looked back down to find the key for a lock had become a key for the piano. "All righ' all righ'," he shushed the giggler and moved to place that key as well. He turned around, eyeballing the other furniture. A hand swept the underside of the table, looking for one of the others.

The table had a topply sort of tea set on top, and the notepad scribbled again.

" A tea party!? Why, yes! We should make our guests feel welcome and show them how good we are at preparing a nice tea!"

He put on his best posh accent, complete with a cracking, higher pitched voice. It was the Queen, obviously. Any of them. "Oooh yes, I do love a spot of Tea." He peeked inside the tea pot.

There, at the bottom, another piano key, much like the other two.

"Ha!" He was on the hunt now, and no one was there to witness these shenanigans. He turned the pot over and dumped it out, into his hand. Click. Hmmm. The seat of the unshoved chair was wrenched out of place.

There sat a flat whoopee cushion. And a giggle from above.

Snort. "Fair play." He whirled on the room, looking at all of the furniture.. then settled on the hearth. First, the mantel. Key?

No key, but scratching at the pad.

"In the winter, it keeps us warm and toasty, but it sure is a nuisance to clean!"

The fireplace itself was next. He crouched, and rooted around in the ash.

Next to the fireplace was a bucket and shovel... But rooting around in the ash would reveal a piano key, soon enough.

A little soot never hurt anyone, said no chimney sweep ever. He snatched it up and moved back to the piano to snap it into place. Piano hands couldn't help it. They danced over the chords of something upbeat and whimsical, centuries after the likes of Mozart or Beethoven.

On the notepad, scritching.

"F#, A, D, E. I wish I could hear what you were playing."

He checked the notepad again, and the ceiling. "Well?" The tone shifted back, and a portion of Moonlight Sonata was cut short. "You can' 'ear?!" He'd heard of this, but still found it absurd. F#, A, D, and E were each depressed in that order with a heavy sigh.

Perhaps the notes were played... in the wrong order, for there was a soft sigh. "This tune cannot hear."

Silence reigned while the Jackal's cogs turned, staring at the paper.
Maybe..
"Can' 'ear."
D, E, A, F# followed with a cackle. This was not an affliction of the afterlife. Ears perked, and he peered again.

There. A giggle! And finally a young girl peered out with a grin, tapping at her ears and winking. She waved and then...

The house spits you out, covered in saliva and dust. Next to you... Is an elegant little teacup with a tiny chip in the handle.

THE END.

[Haunted House]

MIRA

Upon entering the house, you find yourself standing not in an entryway, but rather an old and dusty parlor. Behind you, the door has disappeared, and there is only a wall, with floral paper peeling from the plaster. The room itself seems slightly in disarray, but perhaps this is simply from the ravages of time itself. A piano stands next to a window with tattered drapes that were once a vibrant green, open and oddly… letting in a grey ambient glow, as if on a cloudy day, though when you entered… it was dark outside. In the middle of the room is sitting furniture, a settee, two chairs, a low table between, and a single side table with a simple notepad with a message scrawled in an elegant hand. On the side opposite the piano sits a hearth, cold and unlit, though perhaps before it was abandoned, it was quite warm, if the ash settled on the bottom is any indication. The only sound to be heard is the steady ticking of a small clock on a cabinet with many shelves and trinkets.

There are no doors, and the windows are eerie and off-putting. What will you do?

Mira looks about, thrown off by the change of scenery... but she feels compelled to test the piano out to see if it can carry a tune, still.

The piano is nice. Old, dusty, and missing a few keys. Four, to be exact.

"Huh... that's odd..." she said, looking around the room to see if she could find the missing keys.

The notepad on the side table made a scribbly noise.

Well, she has to go look at that.

On the notepad: "I need your help."

"Okay... can you... hear me?"

No response. On the floor sticking out from under the settee is an old broken

"Convenient..." she remarked, reaching down for the pencil and writing 'can you read this?'

"Hello!"

'Er... hi? How can I help? Where is Kira?'

Nothing, and then... "It's dark. Maybe a lamp could help? It can help when we're lonely..." On the floor next to the settee, a toppled over gas lamp lay where it had fallen... some time ago.

"Sure... I'll play ball..." she said, eyeing the notepad before picking up the gas lamp, looking for an ignition button.

From the shade fell a single piano key.
F#

Now she was getting somewhere. She took the key and placed it back on the piano.

"Okay... so it's like a holopuzzle back home..."

She walked over to the notepad and wrote 'Alright... light's on, feel better?'
"Hmmm..."

She thought to try and be a little proactive, taking the lamp around to try and see if she could find any hidden messages.

The key fit perfectly! There was a little giggle from afar, and a scratch at the pad.

"You like puzzles?"

She walked back and wrote 'I like solving things, yeah. I used to do it a lot in my... old job.'

There was a happy little noise from up above, and a quick scribbling.

"The milkmaids frolic where everyone sits, and they know where all the secrets are."

"Milkmaids, huh...? I'd say they might be cute, but... I'd be afraid if that milk was expired, at this point..."

She walked over to one of the chairs in the middle of the room and sat down with the pad. To wait a moment.

As soon as you sit down...

PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLT! What a rude noise! There is a sudden delighted cackling squeal from somewhere indeterminate, and the settee across from you scoots a little to catch attention. The embroidery features many pastoral scenes with women in big skirts. Some are dancing, some are singing. All are facing toward the middle of two cushions on the back.

"Christ on a FUCKING bike..." she exclaimed... and after gaining her composure, she reached inbetween the cushions to see if there was a key in there.

Indeed there was a second piano key!
A.

It got replaced on the piano and she awaited her next instruction.

"In the winter, it keeps us warm and toasty, but it sure is a nuisance to clean!"

"This thing better not light me on fire..." she remarked, walking over to the fireplace and rummaging through the ash at the bottom.

At the bottom of all the ash was something solid. Smooth and cool. Like a piano key!

Tug.

Tadaaaaa!
D.

Mira was beginning to operate like one of her resistance missions. All business. Replace and await orders.

There was a silence, and a soft sigh before scritching.

"You are very smart."

'Not very... though you had to tackle problems with a clear mind or it meant death where I'm from...' she scribbled, feeling... kinda sorry? that she was not living up to the house's expectations of fun. 'I just want to find Kira and make sure she's safe. Nothing personal.'

"She is also smart."

A silence, and then a final clue.

"The ceramic children are quiet as mice, but when the lights go out, they play such games! They should really learn to pick up after themselves, to avoid being caught."

She squinted at the clue... and then went down on her hands and knees to see if there was anything on the floor that resembled a toy or trinket. She was aware of the cupboard with the trinkets... and she also had the thought of drawing the drapes and turning off the lamp... but order of operations reigns supreme.

No toys on the floor. And the spirit was rather proud, you know! Too old to leave toys all over like a little baby!

To the cupboard, then! To see if there were any ceramic children in there.

The cabinet shelves were filled with all sorts of bric-a-brac! Little cat figures, little angels and big-eyed children. Precocious Memories figurines, toppled and out of place.

She reached in and righted the figures.

As the figures were put in place, they revealed a final piano key, tucked in a corner.
E.

Aaaaand~ replaced!

The piano was whole again! The notepad scratched.
"F#. A. D. E. Play a song that cannot hear."

'I think I'll share a song with you before solving... as an apology for solving the puzzles perhaps too quickly for your taste.'

Mira walked over to the piano and cracked her knuckles. She wasn't a pianist by any stretch, but she knew how to play it well. She shared the haunting little song One More Story by Peter Cetera... and even sang along with it!
(( https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=SU52M ... ture=share ))

D. E. A. F#.

She pressed the notes in that order after she finished the song.

There was a long silence, and finally a scritching on the pad.

"I wish I could have heard it. You looked so peaceful playing it. Thank you."

And just like that, you find yourself being spat out unceremoniously to open air, covered in saliva. Next to you is a notepad, and a broken old pencil. It seems this is the sort of pad that never runs out of paper, and a pencil with endless writing.

THE END.

[Haunted House]

LUCKY

Upon entering the house, you find yourself standing not in an entryway, but rather an old and dusty parlor. Behind you, the door has disappeared, and there is only a wall, with floral paper peeling from the plaster. The room itself seems slightly in disarray, but perhaps this is simply from the ravages of time itself. A piano stands next to a window with tattered drapes that were once a vibrant green, open and oddly… letting in a grey ambient glow, as if on a cloudy day, though when you entered… it was dark outside. In the middle of the room is sitting furniture, a settee, two chairs, a low table between, and a single side table with a simple notepad with a message scrawled in an elegant hand. On the side opposite the piano sits a hearth, cold and unlit, though perhaps before it was abandoned, it was quite warm, if the ash settled on the bottom is any indication. The only sound to be heard is the steady ticking of a small clock on a cabinet with many shelves and trinkets.

There are no doors, and the windows are eerie and off-putting. What will you do?

Lucky put his hands on his hips and looked around. Then he said to himself, "I know what this is... NORTH. LOOK NOTEPAD," he declared robotically, to no one, and went to the notepad to pick it up and read the message.

The notepad reads: "I need your help."

He was staring at the piano. Not with any particular study, just a look of mischief. He'd mess with that soon enough. He declared, "EAST. LOOK CABINET," and proceeded across the room to search the trinkets and such there.
He took the notepad with him, tucking it into his back pocket. "TAKE NOTEPAD," he added.

The little cabinet is filled with all sorts of bric-a-brac. Cats and animals and big-eyed angel children in the Precocious Memories style. The notepad in the back pocket seems to shift!

"LOOK NOTEPAD," he announced, louder than necessary, really, and checked the notepad to see if anything had changed.

On the page is a new scrawl: "The ceramic children are quiet as mice, but when the lights go out, they play such games! They should really learn to pick up after themselves, to avoid being caught."

He looked at where the children were, taking note, and said, "LOOK CHILDREN. Wow, okay, game, that sounds creepy. Uhhh... WEST. USE CURTAINS," and he crossed the room and closed the curtains.

Closing the curtain only darkened the room a little bit. Somewhere perhaps beyond, there was a muffled childish giggle.

"SOUTH. LOOK HEARTH," he declared, and looked for a shovel or something to smother the embers with spent ash.
Or however people with fireplaces douse fires.

The hearth is cold. There is a shovel and ash pail nearby, set just next to the mouth.

"TAKE SHOVEL. TAKE PAIL," he said. He was carrying a decent amount now. How did they always have such a big inventory in point-and-click games? "EAST. LOOK CLOCK." He went back to the cabinet to look at the clock.

The clock was ticking, but not moving. It was stuck on 4:00.

He advanced it from four in the afternoon (so he assumed), past midnight, to three in the morning. The witching hour. "USE CLOCK," he bellowed as he moved the hour hand.

Gears could be heard clicking and moving... Otherwise nothing happened.

"TAKE CLOCK," he declared, and tucked the clock under his arm with the shovel. One hand carried the pail. The notepad was in his back pocket. His other hand was free. He went back to the hearth and said, "SOUTH. LOOK HEARTH-- Wait. Backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace backspace. USE SHOVEL." He started shoveling through the ashes to look for clues! Had something been burned here?!

Shovel, shovel... Little by little the ashes going into the bucket started to reveal something smooth, and white. A piano key.

"TAKE KEY," he declared, and took the key. Screw you, game, he was taking all of his inventory with him. "LOOK KEY." He looked for some clue on it or indication of which piano key it was.

On the bottom, it said F#.

"Don't swear," he tsk'ed, and went to the piano to see if he could replace the key. "WEST. USE KEY."

The key fit perfectly, and if pressed... made the correct tone.

He pressed it. And, for kicks, started playing Three Blind Mice. Nice and creepy for a haunted house. "USE. PIANO!" he yelled, possibly ruining the effect for himself.

There was a giggle somewhere, and a sound of something rolling as if bumped. A toppled gas lamp, long empty.

"Messy, messy," he tutted. "EAST. LOOK LAMP," he said, his various belongings rattling as he went to inspect the toppled gas lamp.

A scratching at the notepad.

"LOOK-- oh, fuck--" He dropped the shovel. He picked it back up, shifted things around, and said, "LOOK NOTEPAD." Then he dug out the notepad and looked.

"Light should never lie down. Light is upstanding, and gets us through dark times!"

"USE LAMP," he said, and set it upright on the table where he'd found the notepad.
He didn't put anything else down while he did this, either.

From the shade tumbled another piano key. A.

"TAKE KEY," he declared, picking up the piano key. "WEST. USE KEY," and shuffled some things around until he could replace the A key.

Click! Another perfect fit! And just the right tone.

He did a scale and looked for how many more keys were missing... "Whoops. LOOK PIANO," he yelled, belatedly.

Two keys left.

"NORTH. LOOK PAPER," he declared, and started pulling and prodding at and searching the peeling wallpaper.

Slowly... A chair was drawn, with a stick man sitting in it.

"Right," he said. He backed away, still looking at the drawing, then said, "SOUTH. USE CHAIR," and sat in one of the chairs.

PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLT! What a rude noise! There was a long giggling, like an amused child. On the notepad appeared another inscription: "The milkmaids frolic where everyone sits, and they know where all the secrets are."
Strangely, on the Settee is pastoral embroidery with milkmaids all pointing between two back cushions.

Tempted as he was to take a whoopee cushion for personal use, he instead searched between the cushions. "LOOK SETTEE," he said as he reached in there.
"This reminds me of Monday," he mused.

Reaching in would reveal another key tucked into the cushions!
D.

"WEST. USE KEY," he declared, replaced the key in the piano, and played those high notes Venkman did in Ghostbusters to try to annoy the ghosts in Dana's apartment.

Click. Yet another perfect fit.

Where all had he gone... "SOUTH. LOOK TABLE," he said, and tried searching on top of and under the low table.

The low table had on it a nice tea set, but the cups and saucers were toppled, the 3-tiered dessert server in disarray. The notepad scribbled again.

"A tea party!? Why, yes! We should make our guests feel welcome and show them how good we are at preparing a nice tea!"

"USE TEA," he said. Then, "Fuck... hang on... stupid inventory... management..." He put the notepad away and did his best to put all of the disarray into array. Cups and saucers were set upright and put in their place. The dessert server was set to rights.

In one of the cups was a final piano key. E.

He had a pretty good idea where this one went. He didn't look. He said, "WEST. USE KEY," and put it in the final missing spot in the piano.

The pad scratched once more.

"Play me a song I cannot hear."

"USE PIANO," he yelled, and started playing Jimendiel Smorgabord's Hot Dogs in Valinor with the muffler pedal depressed.

Nothing happened. On the paper the key names appeared.

F#. A. D. E.

"USE. PIANO." Like a boomer talking to Alexa. He tucked the notepad back with his many other belongings and played the indicated keys.

Nothing happened. Perhaps it was played in the wrong order?

"ALEXA! USE! PIANO!" he yelled, and played D E A F.
Well. F#.

The house started to rumble. Grumble.... And suddenly, you hear a giggle, feel a pop on the back of your head... And are spat out, like old gum. When you land in the open air, you are covered in saliva... And holding a self-inflating whoopee cushion.

Appropriately, he let out a WHOOP when he realized his prize.

THE END.