Aristophanes considered himself to be a prime specimen of cymbal-playing monkey, every bit as good, if not better than that little show-off Charles William. Oh the scamp could keep time, there was no doubt about that, but what idiot couldnt with a internal winding mechanism? None of the other dimwit toys had managed to slip their surly clockwork shackles as he had, discovering a sublime asynchronicity that mirrored the beautiful chaos of life. It was with these thoughts that Aristophanes comforted himself, sitting at the bottom of the toy bin where he had been abandoned because he appeared broken. C-clink c-c-c-c-link c-c-link-k-k-k-k.
