Woodstock Ain’t What It Used To Be
All he’s missing is a monkey. He’s got everything else he could possibly need to be a successful organ grinder. He’s got style, he’s got grace, he’s got a very grating song that goes on for too long — he’s got it all. If his monkey carried around a little cup, wore a tiny vest and fez, and existed, this fellow would already be part of the Organ Grinder Hall of Fame. He’d be the only person in the Organ Grinder Hall of Fame, but it’s something to hang your hat on.
It’s a shame he doesn’t have a monkey to go along with that organ, because I wanted to hire him for all of my events. He’d be great for anything: fairs, festivals, bar mitzvahs, underground political rallies, human sacrifices, occult rituals, etc. Slightly off-topic, I wonder how much it would cost to cater an occult ritual. If you’re hiring an organ grinder, you probably have some money to throw around. Think of all the money you’ll save on the human sacrifice bonfire, too. He brings the attitude, and he brings the fuel.