Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the prompts are supplied by Mark Koopmans and can be found here.

This week's words/prompts are: 

1. granulate 
2. trial 
3. serenade 
4. billiards 
5. cuss 
6. avuncular 

and/or: 

1. vindicate 
2. Hotelier 
3. junkie 
4. metronome 
5. questionnaire 
6. exemplify 

Here is my brain came up with: 

Brian stared at the ticking metronome, silently muttering cuss words as he vainly tried to remember the opening bars of the serenade he was supposed to have learned by now. He ran his fingers lightly across the piano keys, hoping for inspiration, but nothing came to mind. How he wished he could be down at the old Billiards Hall, plunking away on the old upright piano, donated by the new Hotelier. Honky Tonk music was much more his style, not this classical stuff his Mum and Grandma were so fond of. Just because he liked to play, they, particularly Grandma, expected him to become a rich-and-famous concert pianist. 

Brian thought again about the Hotelier, new in town, making changes to the Grand Junction Hotel and looking for new staff. He'd introduced himself as Bertrand Montrose, but said he preferred Bertie when not at work. He'd liked Brian's playing and asked if he would be interested in a job once the new Grand Junction opened. There would be a new piano in the casual bar area and with Brian's honky-tonk tunes, maybe there could be line dancing nights and competitions. Brian had taken the offered questionnaire, (name, address, age, experience) stating he would be eager to do the three month trial and could he have an extra questionnaire for his sister Amy, who had recently finished a course in bar service and was looking for work. 

He began one of his favourite tunes, not noticing that his Grandpa had walked in. The tunes didn't sound the same on this baby grand handed down from his Grandma, but the sound was good enough. Brian gradually became aware of the toe tapping and foot shuffling behind him and turned to see his Grandpa Gordon doing a pretty fair impression of one of Fred Astaire's routines. Gordon grinned, saying, "nice light fingers you've got there son, is that the piece your Mum is expecting to hear?" Brian sagged on the seat. "No, Pop, I'm supposed to have learned some serenade I can't even remember the name of." 

"Not a fan of the classical stuff are you?" said Gordon. "No," said Brian, "and I think Mum might come around if only Grandma would let up. A few weeks playing at the new Grand Junction, getting paid, and my choice of style would be vindicated." Your Grandma is a classical junkie, wants to hear nothing else. She's been that way as long as I can remember, something about training for years and never being quite good enough." "That's sad," said Brian, but it shouldn't mean I have to become a concert pianist, when I'd prefer to play this." He tinkled through another tune and Gordon took another soft-shoe shuffle around the room. Without thinking and without realising, Brian segued into the serenade he'd been trying to remember and Grandpa Gordon pretended to waltz around the room.