PIANO FAMINE By Steven Bryan Bieler Drawing by T. Michael Gardiner 1 nere was no one behind the counter at Meats & Dead Things. Mrs. Gittleman banged on the counter with a can of Veg-Glop. ‘‘Well? Is anyone at home? So help an old lady already. ” Gittleman maneuvered her shopping cart down the Frozen Plant Sap aisle and into Breads & Inert Elements. As she turned the corner, her grandson Mendel reached out from his perch inside the cart and grabbed a loaf of all-natural whole wheat. “Mendel! Give me that,” Mrs. Gittleman said. She threw it back on the shelf. “But Grandma — ” “But nothing. Is that what they feed you at home? Junk they feed you at home!” Mrs. Gittleman critically surveyed the selection of breads on the shelf marked with a skull and crossbones, finally choosing six loaves of Thin-Sliced Foam Roll with Burned-in Flavor. “Mommy doesn’t let me eat that,” Mendel said. “Your mommy didn’t learn to eat in my house or she wouldn’t be the undernourished stringbean she is today,” Mrs. Gittleman replied. She scooped a dozen plastic-wrapped ChocoBusters from a lead-lined hamper. The hamper’s radiation scale was holding at TOLERABLE. “With me you know you’re eating the right things. Don't bruise the pizzas, you lousy kid.” They rolled into the next aisle, Used Paper Goods. “Do we need toilet paper?” Mrs. Gittleman mused. “Please, Grandma,” Mendel said. He picked up a two-pack of Squeeze ems. Mrs. Gittleman knocked it from his hands. “A smart shopper you'll never be. Paper towels are far more absorbent." She dumped several rolls on his head. “Make some room in there. Don’t sit on my ChocoBusters.” “Sorry, Grandma. Can we buy bananas?” “Bananas! Bananas are fruit!” “Mommy says bananas are good for you.” “Mommy says. So because Mommy says, you should believe it? Children are dying in China from bananas! I’ll get you something special for dinner, maybe then you’ll shut up.” There was no one behind the counter at Meats & Dead Things. Mrs. Gittleman banged on the counter top with a can of Veg-Glop. “Well? Is anyone at home? So help an old lady already." Arnie the Meat Man opened the door to the back room. A sheaf of play money filled the breast pocket of his overalls. “I’ve got a hotel on Park Place and it better be there when I get back,” he said. He shut the door and came to the counter. “Hello, Mrs. Gittleman. What an interesting appliance you have there.” “Arnie, you've got brains like a walrus. This is my grandson, Mendel.” “Hi,” Mendel said. “Could have sworn it was a blender.” Arnie peered closely at the grandson in question, not entirely convinced. “Well. What can I get for you today? A nice barnyard animal?” “I’d like two pounds of piano,” Mrs. Gittleman told him. “Lean, not much fat.” “I have a choice upright Yamaha. Tasty keys.” - “Yamaha! Feh! I should feed Yamaha to my only grandson who is eating me out of house and home? Please let me have two pounds of Steinway like always." “Grandma, I don’t want piano. I want bananas.” “If you eat bananas you'll, grow up to be a banana head!” “I’m sorry, Mrs. Gittleman, I have no Steinway. I haven’t had any for a week.” “Hdw about two pounds of Baldwin? I don’t mind a little fat.” “Nope," Arnie said, “no Baldwin either. No Bosendorfer and no Schimmel. All I’ve got is Yamaha. It’s the piano famine, you know.” “Piano famine? What’s that?" “Don't you follow world affairs, Mrs. Gittleman?” “I have enough to do following my neighbors’.” Arnie went to the blackboard behind the reptile peeler. He drew a graph illustrating piano supply and demand for the fiscal year ending in June. “You see, Mrs. Gittleman,” he said, pointing to the graph with somebody’s thigh bone, “when everyone demands a piano, the supply goes down, unless their checks bounce. This year the harvest was not a good one. There weren’t enough penguins available to make piano keys. Zebras, of Miriam of the Kosher Patrol leaned her cart against a rack of Celluloid Party Snacks and came toward them. A holster on her belt held a large cotto salami. course, are a poor substitute. So we have had to import piano to meet consumer demand.” Arnie activated his Garbage in/Garbage Out Data Processor. “I didn’t know piano was so popular,” Mrs. Gittleman admitted. “Well, it's not just for music anymore.” Arnie ran up some figures on the screen. “Now, if we compare piano supply with the evolution of industrial society, factoring .in the seventeen principles of neoHegelian economics, we reach significant conclusions of possible relevance to something or other.” He changed channels, looking for the ballgame. Mrs. Gittleman hit the counter top with the Veg-Glop again. “All right already! So give me the Yamaha, two pounds. I’ll put some ketchup on it; Mendel won’t know the difference.” “I don’t want to eat piano," Mendel said. "Maybe I should feed you fruit? When you get to be a grandmother you can eat 24 Clinton St. Quarterly
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