Three Rabbits were listening to jazz records together. It was the middle of a hot summer day and the Rabbits decided the best way to beat the heat was to sit inside, crank up the A/C and listen to cool cats play hip tunes.

As the records played and an extended saxophone solo came to an end, Maurice, one of the Rabbits, had an idea:

"What if we turned this place into a jazz club?" Maurice posed to the group.

"What do you mean?" The second Rabbit, Genevieve, asked.

"Yeah, and how would we even do that?" Lamont, the third Rabbit, added.

A trumpet solo came over the record, piercing the air with its sharp stabs and rhythmic honking.

"Well, first we have to make it really dark," Maurice began, "When things are dark, that means they're cool..."

"And hip?" Lamont asked.

"And hip indeed," Maurice responded.

The trumpet solo continued, every extended riff somehow a crescendo.

"We should go with a dark color scheme too," Genevieve was quick to add, "Something like Dark Purple, that's my favorite color."

"I like that!" Maurice concurred, "Dark purple is cool, and hip and also, sexy!"

"Oooo, now we're talking!" Genevieve exclaimed, "I can totally get into the idea of a cool, hip, AND sexy jazz club!"

The trumpet solo was still going in the background. In fact, it was starting to become clear that the trumpet player was really stretching his legs, really chewing on the scenery here.

"We should have chauffeurs too!" Lamont shouted. "For people's cars!"

"Chauffeurs?" Asked Maurice. "What do you mean?"

"You know," Lamont replied, somewhat annoyed, "Chauffers, for the cars, duh."

"Do you mean valets?" Genevieve asked, confused.

Okay, this trumpet player is now really just doing trumpet stab after trumpet stab after trumpet stab... He's clearly out of breath. You can hear him gasping for air in the recording. TAKE A BREAK DUDE, WE GET IT!

"Valets? No. Not valets" Lamont answered, irritated, "Why in the world would I mean valets? I mean chauffeurs."

"What?" Maurice was vexed, "What are you talking about? Chauffeurs just drive cars."

WOW, the trumpet has finally stopped! Jesus, that was such a long freaking trumpet solo, and... No, wait, damn it, there he goes again.

"No Lamont, a chauffeur is someone who drives a person around, a valet is someone who parks cars of guests that arrive at a place." Genevieve tried to clarify, "We're telling you, you're thinking of valets."

"What?" Lamont was becoming very confused, "You're telling me chauffeurs don't know how to park cars?"

"No! That's... Ahhhh!" Maurice was ready to tear his hair out, "You have a good idea you just have to listen to what we're saying."

This trumpet player must be the most determined trumpet player the world has ever seen. This solo is still going. I'm pretty sure the guy has just been playing scales for the last several minutes. How is this even allowed? Why hasn't anyone cut his mic??

"Wait, so I'm thinking of the people that take the car from the guests and park them?" Lamont stated, flatly.

"Yes!" Genevieve and Maurice responded together.

"And the word for that is valet, not concierge?" Lamont asked.

"Concierge?" Maurice and Genevieve gave each other a silent knowing, confused look, "Where did Concierge come from?"

Come on, the trumpet player is literally now just yelling Trumpet! Trumpet! Trumpet! On beat.

"Yeah, it's valet," Genevieve said, ignoring the whole concierge sidetrack.

"Okay," Lamont conceded, "So can we have valets?"

I truly fear this trumpet solo will never end.

"Absolutely we can, buddy." Maurice agreed.

This trumpet solo is a curse. I am cursed. It must be. Long after I depart this physical world my descendants will speak of the curse. The curse of the solo which drove their grandad to madness.

"This jazz club is a great idea, I'm so excited!" Genevieve cheered. "

“And we already have all our plans!” Maurice concurred, “We did it! That’s it! This is the end baby, the end!"

But the curse will also be a legend because on the other side, was the trumpet player who could play forever. He never ate, he never slept, only trumpet, all day, all the time.

Trumpet. Trumpet. Trumpet. Trumpet.

Trumpet.

Trumpet.

"The end!" Lamont exclaimed.

Trumpet.

Trumpet.

 Trumpet. 

 Trumpet.

 Trumpet.