The party had begun to drag. All the classic signs were there: Several guests asked the stablehands to begin readying their coaches. Others were checking their pocketwatches. Even Scrumptious John, the lush postman, carried only a single beverage in his hand and was starting to look around for his mailbag.
"Do something, Mogey!" Smush urged.
"You know what this party needs?" Mogey replied, surveying the scene from the upstairs landing. "Some music!"
"But Snooter Malone and his Prickly Seven are already playing their little hearts out," said Smush, gesturing to the hedgehog octet performing in the breakfast nook.
Mogey rummaged in the upstairs closet and brought forth a large instrument case. "I think we need something..." he began, snapping the case open.
"Oh no," Smush responded, his head in his hands.
"...a little more powerful," Mogey concluded. He produced his grandfather's accordion and gave it a nice strong squeeze. The instrument's rich and thunderous sounds immediately drowned out the bored mumbles of the guests (not to mention the Prickly Seven).
"Freebird!" requested Scrumptious John as he abandoned his mailbag in favor of another drink.
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