Listen, Johnny boy, we need to have a chat. This Silver Sky of yours? It’s cursed. Haunted. Possessed by the demon familiars of artists living and dead, a vending machine of meme songs where art goes to die and where the player is merely a pawn, a host to the will of this modern occult torture device.
It might be just the one they sent me – it was labeled with some ancient markings, possibly occult in nature, that led me to believe that this was a unique instrument. You’ll have to see for yourself how it went down when I tried to play some entry-level jazz on it…
