Day 50: Music Room (3rd Shift)
All right! It was only midday and Guybrush had already managed to touch base with both his darling Plunderbunny and Morgan, avoid being punched in the face again, and learn that he'd failed to understand Mo's dying words to him. Most importantly, he'd managed to not make himself look like an incompetent fool in front of his not-yet wife. He kept his fingers crossed that the future would be preserved- if he started disappearing into nonexistence or remembering things he'd not done, he could be sure he'd screwed up.
When given his choice of which room he wanted to spend the shift in, Guybrush picked the Music Room, passing on the movie playing in the Sun Room (he'd seen enough giant monkey heads to last him a lifetime, thank you very much). Besides, he was itching to get his fingers on a banjo. It was only after he'd already stepped into the room and his nurse had passed him the "Don't steal anything because I'm not taking you anywhere else" look that he realized that a) the room didn't even have a banjo in it, and b) he didn't have enough fingers to play it even if there had been one. Crud.
His second choice was a plastic recorder sitting idly in a chair. He didn't have enough fingers to play it either, but at least his hook could cover one of the holes. He gave it a blow, producing an ear-splitting squawk that earned him another sour look from the nurse. With a sheepish grin, he tried returning the instrument to its initial place, only to find it was stuck on his hook. "Apparently, this instrument isn't handicapped-friendly," he remarked to himself, yanking it from the prosthetic with a squeaky pop.
His next stop was a seat in front of a keyboard. Now here was something he could play with a hook! Not well, but he had more luck with it than the previous instruments as he hen-pecked out notes with zilch regard for tonality.
[Porky]
When given his choice of which room he wanted to spend the shift in, Guybrush picked the Music Room, passing on the movie playing in the Sun Room (he'd seen enough giant monkey heads to last him a lifetime, thank you very much). Besides, he was itching to get his fingers on a banjo. It was only after he'd already stepped into the room and his nurse had passed him the "Don't steal anything because I'm not taking you anywhere else" look that he realized that a) the room didn't even have a banjo in it, and b) he didn't have enough fingers to play it even if there had been one. Crud.
His second choice was a plastic recorder sitting idly in a chair. He didn't have enough fingers to play it either, but at least his hook could cover one of the holes. He gave it a blow, producing an ear-splitting squawk that earned him another sour look from the nurse. With a sheepish grin, he tried returning the instrument to its initial place, only to find it was stuck on his hook. "Apparently, this instrument isn't handicapped-friendly," he remarked to himself, yanking it from the prosthetic with a squeaky pop.
His next stop was a seat in front of a keyboard. Now here was something he could play with a hook! Not well, but he had more luck with it than the previous instruments as he hen-pecked out notes with zilch regard for tonality.
[Porky]