Allen Frost
Back in March I submitted a manuscript titled The Prepared Piano to a contest in Seattle, and I’ll admit after waiting nine months I was pretty sure it wouldn’t make it to shore. Down it went, torpedoed, on fire. Fortunately, I was able to hire a tugboat with Wallace Beery and Marie Dressler on board. They had seen the black smoke, they knew where to start trawling. They craned it up from the depths. It was badly charred, the water poured through holes, a couple salmon thrashed down the keyboard, a leg was broken. They set it on the shore. Laurel and Hardy got it into their truck and managed to deliver it to my repair shop where I worked to put these short story poems back together, tuned and ready to play.
