Treble-Trouble

I was surfing through the television one day, attempting to listen to some good, enlivening music, the presence of which eases the hecticity in my fierce schedule. I was continually rummaging the remote control, toggling the channel button to and fro. It seemed to be gossip, food and fashion everywhere. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a treasure. One channel was magnanimously streaming really good songs.

It was just the last fifty minutes of the song I heard to. I was engrossed in it. It seemed as though I had just detangled myself from Einstein’s space-time. I listened and listened and listened. The song was a brilliant brew of carefully selected notes, blending to form marijuana for my brain. I hummed the song whole day, all night. It looked as though I was married to the last fifty minutes of the song. I kept humming the song, soon playing it on my guitar. The visceral tonic seemed to keep things, temporarily out of my head; the seraphic tones of the song, clashing with my brain like a pick and a fret. I waited.
I badly needed to listen to the whole song, but I seemed to have lost the song’s name.
I used my jigsaw skills to figure out a part of the song’s name and soon built it. I soon reconstructed the full title, from the very less resources I had.

My exams were approaching: it was my board exams. I seemed to take the thing very lightly, casually humming the song, while studying, even while eating!
I got up on the day of my math exam, four at dawn, quickly rushing to the computer, hoping to download the song. My hormones rushed up as I plugged in the internet connection. Then, everything was spic.
I googled the term Treble+ramaganana=download.I searched desperately for a result.
I looked in vain any concerning results to appear. My eyes glowed with sheer turpitude, as some descent results began to appear. Looked onto the screen, ready to feast upon a mammoth prey, I had predated.

There it was, before my ears, the dream song I’d waited to listen to. The intricate samba beats coupled with feminine ferocity; the freaking dialect invented by the juvenile triarchy. I listened to the band of Netherlanders rock to the core. I listened to my heart’s fill, reluctant to miss even a nanosecond of the song. Finally, it was time to put the cigar back in its case.
The exam? Yes, I’d never ruined any exam like I’d ruined that one!