Kevin Scott

“ Groverzb walked to the window and looked down the slope. Little People buildings dotted the landscape, and the people themselves scurried silently about. Yes, thought Groverzb, it would do nicely. He had brought an adequate food-tablet supply. He would finish, without the distraction of voices, his beautiful concerto. He would return to Earth famous and happy.
Armed with paper and pencils, he went to the piano, having decided to enlarge upon the theme in the second movement. ”

“ He jerked back from the keyboard, his hair on end, his teeth, on edge, his ears screaming with the mass of sounds he had produced. He looked at his hands, peered at the score, adjusted his spectacles and tried again.
I'm tired, he thought, recoiling in horror from the racket. A food tablet and a nap will remedy the situation. ”

“ It looked like a miniature piano skeleton. He tripped a hammer. There was a faint tinkle. Instantly one of the Little People produced a single miniature hammer and tapped it rapidly against his skull. The interpreter tripped another hammer. A second little one responded.
Suddenly one of the Little People ran over and tripped all the interpreter's hammers simultaneously. The Little People winced.
"Oh," said the interpreter. "Well, it's their planet." He hustled Groverzb out to a freight ship that was warming up for takeoff.
"Is everyone insane?" Groverzb croaked. ”