Sweet music? Not this piano

Music City’s Lorraine Bognar shared a story about accidentally discovering a porn stash.

A few years ago, a woman called the store and complained that the pedals on her new piano would not work. So Steve, a piano technician, scheduled a house call.

When he arrived, a teenage boy was shooting baskets in the driveway. But it was the boy’s mother who showed Steve to the family room and left him to work on the piano.

Upon removing a lower front panel, he discovered the problem. Someone had crammed magazines into a space not intended for periodicals storage. Yes, that kind.

Steve relocated the stash to behind the piano. And after a few minutes of aimless tinkering, he replaced the panel. Then he found the lady of the house.

“No charge,” he said. “It was just a minor adjustment.”

As Steve was getting in his car to leave, he told the boy he had moved the reading material. He suggested finding a better hiding place.

And years ago, North Idaho’s Phyllis Quass was vacuuming her teenage sons’ room when she discovered a Playboy centerfold on the back of the bedroom door.

“I marched out, bought a Playgirl magazine and switched the centerfolds,” she wrote.

Well, the boys came home from school with a group of buddies and headed into the room. They closed the door.

“There was a moment of silence followed by a roar of laughter that shook the roof.”

The problem had been solved without a word exchanged.

Agree or disagree: Spokane is home to 10,000 people who would gladly wait 90 minutes for a restaurant table while traveling but who insist on door-front parking and instant service when dining out here at home.

Season to taste: WSU computer security specialist Michael Irvin was in a Moscow convenience store when he heard a clerk expound on winter weather. Said the middle-aged female cashier, “The only ones who get happy and excited over snow are those who still bounce when they hit the sidewalk.”

Today’s Slice question: Maybe everyone with klutzy tendencies has a greatest hits list. I know I do.

Years ago, while colleague Dan Pelle and I were back in Washington, D.C., I managed to walk into a wall corner in our hotel and open up a nice little gash on my forehead. This was minutes before we were scheduled to head over to the U.S. Capitol to interview about-to-be-Speaker of the House Tom Foley.

I could go on. Just last week, I was walking to work in the dark, as usual for this time of year. I had taken off my glasses to see if I was wearing the right pair. And just then a cat let out a yowl, darted out from under a parked car and sprinted across the sidewalk in front of me. I turned my head to watch the fleeing feline and promptly smacked into a hefty tree branch.

OK, your turn. What’s your favorite “How I bumped my head” story?