by Will Stanton » Fri Sep 04, 2015 7:07 pm
Inside the piano, Will was getting the ever-loving crap beaten out of him, as the hammers slammed down on him as they tried to hit the strings. The sound the piano made wasn't precisely brilliant music, either, though the longer the beastie jumped up and down, the closer to "accurate" music it became, as Will flattened out enough to start offering less and less resistance to the relentlessly pounding hammers.
THough, it should be fair, the moaning didn't really go well with the notes the beastie was slamming.
The finger just sat there, all clay-like and not blood filled at all. What a disappointment.