Friedrich would never let me do no talkin', so now's my chance. And I wouldn't listen to nothin' he says.
I lived with him for years, and it ain't no picnic. All day it was twirl, twirl, yank on me all day long. That
was when he was in a good mood, which was practically never. Most of the time he was bangin' on tables, screaming
about his goddamn eyes. Then he'd take his pens and stick 'em into his desk while screaming "Ach! Schwächlinge!!"
Then he'd take that stinkin' medicine all day long, and that gave him awful breath! Having to smell that all day. Then
he'd start yellin' at me. I mean, what the hell did I do? I'm just sittin' there mindin' my business and he'd
say "Häßlich Schnurrbart!" And I said you ain't so cute yourself.
He'd never give me a haircut. I could hardly see a thing, you know. Hair everywhere. But he was sadistic, so when
I asked him to take me to the barber he'd just snicker and keep writing, snicker and write all day long and
tell me that he would get even.
He really was a bore too. We never went anywhere. Just up and down the stairs and out for a walk once in a while. Didn't
get to talk much since he had no friends except Richard, but then he turned against him. He had good taste in music
that's for sure. Couldn't write it though, 'cause he'd always get mad at the G clef. But it really got bad after
we went to the asylum. Speiche!!