I Plan On Getting Rich By Teaching Tigers to Play the Piano
“I plan on getting rich by teaching tigers to play the piano.”
Yes, that’s how it all started. A random stranger on the bus talking about his brilliant money-making plan. As soon as I heard it, I knew that I needed to act fast, more like a cheetah than a fat and lazy cheetah.
A few fast words later and I had managed to talk the bus stranger out of following through on his idea. He should be commended for coming up with such a good idea in the first place, but not commended too much, since he was so easily talked out of it by a few stories of imaginary tiger piano teachers who had important body parts removed by upset tiger students.
That left me free to pursue a tiger piano school on my own. Start with the youngest baby tigers you can find, and expose them to Beethoven and Billy Joel and Art Tatum as soon as possible. Give them cheap little keyboards to get started on, ones that won’t be a big loss if they get eaten. Don’t let them watch American Idol, no matter how much they whine and complain and threaten to eat Ryan Seacrest.
Get some disposable piano teachers, preferably ones with some Las Vegas show experience. Have weekly recitals where the tiger students try to play the best Keith Jarrett-esque piano improvisation that they can (scoring for grunts and growls and purrs are at the judges’ discretion). Forbid students from watching any episodes of When Animals Attack. Don’t let them read newspapers, otherwise known as Nature’s Cruelest Story, what with the cartoons and words and all of that.
And yes, there are some other important steps to training the world’s most accomplished tiger pianists, but I’m keeping those a secret. What kind of madman crazy with wealth and power could I become if I gave away my secrets and let everyone else duplicate my success? Not a very good one, that’s for sure. I’d be kicked out of the club and defrocked before you could say “kazoo.”
Oops, forget that you heard the word kazoo in any connection with tiger pianists.
All will be revealed in time, but that time is not yet here. When I’m rich enough to purchase mid-sized American cities whenever I want, then maybe the secrets will be revealed, at least to people who can bring me really cool-looking marbles.
Until then, just enjoy your tiger concerts, and try not to smell like tuna when you go. I can’t afford many more of those lawsuits.