Come opening day of the second round, a sudden, unseemly commotion interrupted the decorous ceremony as the jury trooped in to take places for the first performance. From the back of the hall, the eliminated pianist had turned himself into a human trench mortar, and was lobbing eggs and rotten tomatoes upon the august heads of those who had done him wrong. It was, apparently, the best performance he had ever given, but he was eliminated from the hall all the same. I don't think he had much of a concert hall career after that.
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