Mr. Polfus

A man with a name that sounded like "Polfus" called for a piano tuning. As I pulled up in the back, an elderly gentleman with blue eyes, wild, wiry white hair, and one arm in a sling came out to greet me.
I followed him through a side entrance of a structure that may have at one time been a garage. He turned right and led me along a corridor to a thick door that looked like it belonged on a bank vault. I was somewhat apprehensive about stepping through that ominous door into a pitch black room. My years of watching The Twilight Zone kicked in. Was I about to enter another time period? Was this man a mad scientist who needed one more person on the space ship? Did he really have a piano?
He disappeared and I stood nervously in the dark until a few lights came on. The lights were so high up, they looked like stars and did not cast much light, but only shadows that made the room look sinister. I began to make out forms strewn about the large windowless room. In the center was the biggest form of all. Flashlight in hand, I discovered that it was a Steinway B, one of the finest grands made. Astonished, I turned to the man and said, "Gee, you really DO take your music seriously, don't you, Mr. Polfus?"
He disappeared once more to put more lights on in what was obviously a control room as I was inspecting the piano. Imagine, I thought, This old coot has his own recording studio right in his home. I was impressed. I figured that he must be an eccentric old millionaire with a passion for music.
As I tuned the piano, Mr. Polfus carried on a nostalgic soliloquy about the good old days. He dropped so many famous names, I figured the man was delusional from watching too many old movies. At one point, he mentioned that his house was used to televise The Ozzie and Harriet Show. By the time he got to Claudette Colbert, I'd had enough. I put my tuning hammer down and said, "This is all very interesting, Mr. Polfus, but would you please go into the other room so I can tune this piano?" Somewhat startled, he stopped talking, looked at me for a moment, and then left the room.
On my drive home, I got to thinking about this old man. There was something familiar about that face. Remembering that in his tales of famous people, he was called "Red." I tried to visualize Mr. Polfus with red hair. Then it dawned

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