So the Symphony Orchestra was playing a concert in the park and was in the middle of Beethoven's 9th Symphony. The basses, in the back of the orchestra, decided they had a few minutes to spare before being asked to play anything, so they ran across the street to the pub for some ale. It was a windy day, so they found some string to wrap around their music stands to secure their music while they were gone. Once at the tavern, they could hear the music and keep up with the progress of the piece.
After one, two or maybe three rounds, they decided that they had to hurry because the last movement of the ninth symphony was underway. They stumbled back onto the bandstand and were fumbling with the string, trying to get it loose, but not having much success. The conductor saw what was happening and instantly sized up the situation: it was the bottom of the ninth, the score was tied and the basses were loaded.
Aghast at the thought of what might be happening the two forced the door open and burst in, only to see the great composer scratching out the notes on sheets of manuscript.
"What are you doing????!!!!!!" they cried out in horror.
"I'm decomposing."
Shalom.
Symphony pung, err ping.