"What is that racket?" boomed Aunt Dahlia coming in from a brisk morning on the grounds.
"It is not racket, dear Aunt, but the musical workings of one Buddy Bolden." I said, lifting my hands off the keys.
"Well, it's horrid. Why can't you play something nice?" she asked.
"It is nice, Aunt Dahlia. Listen." I began to once again tickle the ivories. There were lyrics that went along with it, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with them.
Just the thought of singing the term 'funky butt' to Aunt Dahlia turned my ears red.