So yesterday, I and a bunch of friends moved out our upright piano.
Since our strongest member was stuck on the interstate in Sewanee, the rest of us got impatient, found as many screwdrivers as we could, and attacked the sucker. (The traffic was caused by a large truck losing brake control coming down the mountain; luckily, it didn't burst into flames, like another truck did in the same location the night of our senior prom.) By the time the last member arrived, we had already removed the front board and the action (and hurled them out at the road =P), and were busily engaged with deconstructing the keyboard.
We took out all the keys, shoving them all, along with all the various screws, into a bag which we subsequently used to dispose of our lunch trash.
We were about halfway done, and a few of us got even more impatient and advocated just rolling the thing out to the road to join its already-removed appendages. So we did.
All the way to the road.
If you have never rolled a hundred-year-old upright piano down your driveway, you just haven't lived. The poor thing made a different cracking noise every time we dropped it down again, and eventually the plate, pictured here but upside down (sorry), fell out of the rest of the wood frame, so we shoved the frame to one side and lugged the monstrosity—which probably weighs close to two hundred pounds—the rest of the way, and then proceeded to kick the frame repeatedly until it became sufficiently damaged . . . or at least until we were tired of kicking it.
Here is the rest of the damage: eins, zwei, drei, vier.
All in all, a good day.
And then that evening, we got back together and played Risk (the A.D. 2215 version) until five-thirty in the morning. Which is a short game, considering we started at eleven, after fulfilling ourselves on Brawl and Age of Empires and other such rot.
When we stopped, I controlled the Americas, half the Pacific, and two-thirds of the moon. The other main power held Europe, the North Atlantic, most of Asia and Africa, and the other part of the moon. I killed two of the other players, and he was setting his gaze on the fifth.
We actually stopped in the middle of my turn, since I had already been forced to cash in for troops because of captured territory cards, and the second conquest would have mandated a second drop, with enough left over to force a cash-in my next turn . . . after at least one other drop on the survivors' turns. Nobody really wanted to see what I could do with over fifty reinforcements, I suppose. That, and we were all kind of bleary.
