copyright John Nixon
I was sure the piano had eaten Grandpa. I only stepped away for a moment and he vanished.
As I approached, I could smell roasting flesh. Dear God, it had sucked him in and was cooking him!
“You monster!” I shouted, grappling frantically at the keys. A door in the knee panel fell open, revealing a ladder.
I found Grandpa in a cellar, hunched over a grill like a barbecuing troll. He spun around, then relaxed.
“I thought Grandma made you guys go vegan?” I said.
“Six years ago,” he said. “Right about the time I took up ‘piano lessons’.”
The Green-Walled Tower 