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I__ not too sure what the name of the song was that he was playing when I came in, but whatever it was, he was really stinking it up. He was putting all these dumb, show-offy ripples in the high notes, and a lot of other very tricky stuff that gives me a pain in the ass. You should__e heard the crowd, though, when he was _ished. You would__e puked. They went mad. They were exactly the same morons that laugh like hyenas in the movies at stuff that isn__ funny. I swear to God, if I were a piano player or an actor or something and all those dopes though I was terri_, I__ hate it. I wouldn__ even want them to clap for me. People always clap for the wrong things. If I were a piano player, I__ play it in the goddam closet. Anyway, when he was _ished, and everybody was clapping their heads off, old Ernie turned around on his stool and gave this very phony, humble bow. Like as if he was a helluva humble guy, besides being a terri_ piano player. It was very phony__ mean him being such a big snob and all. In a funny way, though, I felt sort of sorry for him when he was _ished. I don__ even think he knows any more when he__ playing right or not. It isn__ all his fault. I partly blame all those dopes that clap their heads off__hey__ foul up anybody, if you gave them a chance.