Witch: "Chop-Chop! Chop-Chop! Hurry up or we'll be late for the party!"
Composer: "W-wait! P-Penny! D-don't pull on my arm! I-it'll dislocate!"
Witch: "Oh pish posh! You're a young man, not a crash dummy! Of course you can tank a pretty magical girl yanking at your arm like a tow truck! HI-HO SILVER AWA---"
Pop
Composer: "............................."
Witch: "................C...Chop-Chop...why does your arm feel like dead rubber?"
Composer: "..........................I have a frail health... and lactose intolerant... I wasn't raised on milk."
Witch: "OMG, I'm so sorry! (O///O)
A certain Classical Composer passes out on the floor