rated G in the key of B flat

Doctor Schlepheimer, his framed Certificate of The School Of Two Dimensional Psychiatry, reading three squiggly lines of accomplishment, fastened crooked with a big gold push-pin, and clear in line over his right shoulder behind his deep-cushioned chair, crossed his legs and peered at his esteemed visitor over the top of his thick black glasses.
"Would you mind repeating that a third time, Mr. Fudd? I almost understand now, but I. Just. Don't. Quite. Have. It."
The patient sat up from the couch, sitting two inches off the floor, whirled and shakily replied.
"This is so tewwable, doctew. You have to see this wabbit", he drawed. "I was pwoudly conducting The Gweat Flammish Symphony, in ouw beautiful rendition of.."
"Rendition, Mr. Fudd"?
"Sowwy. Hehehe". He blushed scarlet. "Wendition! of The Blue Danube, in thwee quawtew time, mind you, when I see this cwazy wabbit, its giant wight eye bulging out the end of the scope of this enowwwwmus wifle!"
The doctor leaned forward, whipping off his glasses dramatically.
"And what, my dear Mr. Fudd, did you do again?"
"What could I do, Dr. Schlepheimer? He was aiming it wight at Mistew Lincoln up in the Guest Of Honow's box", he said weakly, covering both his eyes with white-gloved hands. "I went back to conducting, that's what I did." He dropped his hands to his sides. "Aftew all, I always do what the diwector says. I wanted to take my watew pistol and shoot the annoying wabbit, but Mistew Spielbewg, although a vewy vewy nice man, mind you, is wathew humowless, so I just tooned back to the owchwesta and moved my awms, only fastew and fastew to twick the wabbit to dwop his gun and dance. And doctew," he brightly and proudly grinned, "I did!"
Dr. Schlepheimer sunk back into his chair and closed his eyes. It was quiet. A white cloud appeared above his head. In that cloud a floating faucet dripped slowly and thunderously in three quarter time as dollar signs mamboed out of step around the silver-sparkling faucet.
"Tell me a little more about this crazy director".
Dr. Schlepheimer opened his eyes. Mr. Fudd was gone, having pulled down his ear flaps and squeezing through a miniature door marked 'The End'.

Object: Object to be Destroyed (1923)
by Man Ray