Andy Warhol Shadows I

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He'd tried it out. It was easy to play. In fact, it was almost impossible to play badly. It didn't seem to matter how he touched the strings ‑ they still rang out the tune he had in mind. It was, in solid form, the kind of instrument you dream 'It's an ape.'
'This is Ankh‑Morpork. That's how things are here.' Glod removed his helmet and unfolded something from inside.
'Why've you got a string bag?' said Imp.
'Fruit's fruit. Waste not, want not. If they throw eggs, try to catch them.'
Imp slung the guitar's strap over his about when you first start to play ‑ the one you can play without learning. He remembered when he'd first picked up a harp and struck the strings, confidently expecting the kind of lambent tones the old men coaxed from them. He'd got a discord instead. But this was the instrument he'd dreamed of . . .'We'll stick to numbers everyone knows,' said the dwarf. "'The Wizard's Staff" and "Gathering Rhubarb". Stuff like that. People like songs they can snigger along to.'Imp looked down at the bar. It was filling up a bit now. But his attention was drawn to a large orang‑utan, which had pulled up its chair right in front of the stage and was holding a bag of fruit.'Gllod, there's an ape watching us.''Well?' said Glod, unfolding a string bag.