The Curse of the Boilordion

It was an ominous November night. My friends and I were preparing for the event of the season- "The Annual November Techno Polka Night." I was one of the many accordion players selected to perform. As I walked out on stage, my mind raced with an unusual anxiety. Unable to explain my strange logic, I began to play. With each piercing note of the accordion, shrieks of pain roared from the crowd. The louder and faster I played, the more the crowd responded in agony! Before my eyes, the Techno Polka faithful became covered in nothing other than BOILS! My mind raced, and then...My epiphany...IT WAS THE BOILORDION. It was my accordion. With each riff, my accordion turned into the grim reaper of boils, cursing everyone in ear shot! After the concert I threw my Boilordion in the case to never bring it out again. Every once in a while, if I am quiet, in the early hours of the morning I still hear the boilordion.