Later, I'm going down to the continental breakfast for a cinnamon bun; I'm gonna get it on the bed sheets; then have another one.

TromboneA trombone blusters his waythrough the bright restaurant,demanding to see the chef.He's furious;the prawns have given himsplitnotes.ViolinsFour violins wait for a bus in the rain.The pervading atmosphere of melancholymakes their plaintive scrapings redundant.AxeThe…