Brothers, Brothers

“Young lady, I’m gonna need you to reassemble my piano right now.”

“It’s a harp, Bob.”

“No, no. You can’t be a harp player; my drummer would be hurling drumsticks at you.”

“I swear to you that what I’m playing is a harp.”

“Uh-huh. And was it invented–”

“Harpo Marx did not invent the harp, Bobby.”

“–by Harpo…ah. So his name was just a coincidence, then?”

“Um, sure, yeah.”

Good to know.”