What, Now, Have You Gone and Done With All the Wonderful Memories That I Gave You?

# What, Now, Have You Gone and Done With All the Wonderful Memories That I Gave You?

## What did you do with all the wonderful memories? (at some point this will all be rendered by a markdown renderer)

intro song, rough out of tune guitars, hints of feedback:

    YOU ARE THE WORST PILOT IN THE SKY!
    YOUR FAILURE IS LANDING TO YOUR SIGHTS.

    YOUR HEAD IS LIKE A PERSON NO ONE LIKES.


### actual piece


"I see that you are introducing some form of structure, now," said an old man with a long, rather unkempt beard. "Are you sure you should be doing this? Could be dangerous."

"Avast you old dog! Ne'er bother me again with all moodless musings such as your prior!" replied the fellow the old man had been trying to address. He was a younger fellow, but you could see by the white beardlings stubbling his face that even as a baby he must have been dealing with old demons.

"If it's going to be like that, why do you even bother to shave?"

"I don't anymore," said the man staring down into his chest, clearly wearing stubble over his face, and clearly indicating shaving activity. "I honestly do not, any more."

Here was a finger for prodding into the heart. "Lies will soothe you nowhere, young man. I can see the turn of your slips and whittle your selfish grins to bone." The old longbeard grew in size. "You cannot lie to one like me."

The young man grew smaller and looked down into his chest. "I would never lie," he stated. "I wouldn't lie if this was the last memory I would ever have of her." And he proffered the memory. "Take it. Take this last one."

"I'm an old man, I don't have use for cute little puppies riding a tricycle," said longbeard flatly.

"Well then," replied his younger friend, as they strolled through the cold streets of night Manhattan--the city that only sleeps if, well, somebody needs to sleep--"let me just toss it, then."

And there it flew, from his naked, gloveless hand as he proceeded further *without it*, muttering something about how using buzzers is not real shaving. Landed on a person who had been 'bunking' on the side of the street. On that person's head, specifically, waking him up in the city that never should have to. It was a warm, fleecy puppy, sitting on a tricycle, and now completely enjoyed by a homeless man who actually needed that extra lining.