Squeezebox

I work for a newspaper, and people put things in the classifieds. The ad is there, today, and I call the number. No, I've never played accordion before, but I've always wanted to learn, and what's 20 bucks? Sometimes, you have a minute to sit around and look at the classifieds, and sometimes you have a little extra money in your pocket. Think of the things you've thrown 20 bucks away on. Boxes of cereal. Rollerblades. The cologne that that girl told you she liked. Dog food.

So I call the number. "Accordion...yes! It's here! Come see it!" So I go see it. Two young men answer the door. "You're Curt!" they say, and I am Curt, and I say "yes!" "The accordion!" they say, and I nod. "Come in!" they say, and I do. The apartment is small, and a mess, with instruments strewn about. "How long have you been playing?" they say, and I never have and I tell them so. They pick up some instruments and start playing and say, "try the accordion. Try before you buy!" they say. They are enthusiastic. The accordion looks beautiful, but it smells like a wet basement. I pick it up. I know my way around a keyboard, and I play a melody over their silly chord progression. They are intense! They say, "yes!" and "alright!' even though nothing is happening.

I give them the 20 bucks, and I say "thanks" , and "see you on the flipside!", which is what I say to people when I am leaving and I don't know what else to say.

And now I have an accordion.