My Piano spoke to me like that. Once.I was vacuuming the floor, since somehow one of my wife's duties became mine. It's a good trade though, she does many things around the house. I shut the vacuum off and moved the bench to vacuum underneath where it sits, and under and around the piano. Just as finished moving the bench, and before I could restart the vacuum, the piano spoke up, and said, I'd have a word with you.
The piano began to speak, the following is what it relayed to me. I could clearly discern from your keystrokes the other day, that you were maligning pianos in general, and me in particular. Thou fool, for the past fifteen years since I've been sitting here neglected, unloved, and unused, if you had even a semblance of a brain, you could have learned to make music with me.
The time you've wasted on that stupid guitar forum, foozling, and fazzling with guitars and golf clubs, you could have formed a rewarding relationship with me. You could have known a world beyond your meager realm, but you chose to ignore me, and waste your time on useless pursuits. You are to be pitied in a way, but alas, you just don't have the brains of a goose in a pond. You are too old to even reason with, let alone learn to play me, so go on and do your chores like the servant of idiocy you are.
I knew not how to answer this volley from the piano, so I did the sensible thing, and resumed vacuuming. As I vacuumed, meandering to and fro, I thought of what the piano had to say. Alas, I can find no fault with any of it.
I sold it.