Devil Fusion

I went to my local Guitar Center to buy some guitar strings. There was a guitar playing competition taking place when I walked in. It made me sad to see it. I was instantly depressed. The competitors were playing to pre-recorded music and soloing over it. It was terrible. The music was reminiscent of devil fusion of the Kenny G variety. A twenty-one year old kid played. He was losing his hair, then another kid got up and played with his back turned to the audience. There was a bunch of old people watching. It reminded of a RV convention. There was a MC announcing the contestants. I felt like I was at strip club for guitar players.

            I made my way to the Martin guitars. I picked up the most expensive one to have a moment alone with. I had just sat down and started to play when a man that looked like Mickey Rooney walked in. He was older, shorter man, gray at the temples.

            “I’ll be quiet,” he said.

            “Why are you going to be quiet?” I asked.

            He didn’t answer. He had picked up a guitar and started to play. I noticed right off that he couldn’t play a lick. He didn’t have any rhythm, or talent. I tried to play something musical to his herky-jerky strumming, but no matter what I tried it didn’t work.

            “That’s Layla,” he said to me.

            “Oh.”

            “Yeah, it’s D minor, B flat, to C.”

          It didn’t sound like Layla to me, it sounded like part of Layla, but the man insisted on teaching it to me anyways. I tried to learn it to somehow pacify him. It seemed ironic that I was taking a lesson from the worst guitar player in the world. That’s the beauty of music, you don’t need much to teach.

Feed the Cats

I agreed to feed my friends cats while she’s out of town. Her cats are fat and spoiled. They’re use to eating early in the morning, before seven. I spent the night at my lady friend’s house, and didn’t get to the cat’s until ten. They can adjust, was my reasoning. I walked into my friend’s house and there they were, they were just sitting there looking at me. There was disappointment in their eyes. They usually let me pet them, but not today. 

The cats have their own special area in the house. Their private quarters so to speak. I walked into their quarters and found a bag of cat food on the ground. They had knocked the bag off a shelf and attacked it at the mid section where it was most vulnerable. There was a gaping hole in the bag, and remnants of the cats savagery strewn on the ground. The bag didn’t have a chance. It lay stiff, wounded. It was hard to tell who the ringleader was. I looked toward the cats. They weren't talking.  

Ashley

I’ve been having better luck with the women lately. First, there was Maria, and now a woman named Ashley. They’re popping up from everywhere. I opened my Facebook account and there was a message, a friend request. Ashley something or the other wants to be your friend, I’m not a Facebook snob like most people. I looked at Ashley’s picture. It was a far away shot of her standing in the forest. She looked good from a distance. But when I looked at her picture up close, Ashley kind of looked like a man. Oh well, I confirmed her friendship request anyway. There was a message attached to the friend request. “Let’s chat sometime.”

            It felt like I was being manipulated. Ashley was up to something. She sent me another message, “Hi stranger.” She asked if I was seeing anybody and that she’d send me some pictures of herself. I was beginning to think Ashley was taking me for a fool. She sent me another message. She was extremely attentive. The message said that there were to many photos to download, but if I clicked on the link provided I could see them. I felt a sense of betrayal, we hadn’t even chatted yet. You can’t have love without a friendship. I didn’t click on the link. I figured it would destroy my computer somehow. Good-bye Ashley, you beautiful-looking man. 

The Snowball Affect

I fell victim to the snowball affect. One beer led to another, which led to another and somewhere down the mountain it finally came to a rest. But the damage was done. I parted ways with my drinking friend, the snowball enabler, and made my way to the local grass fed grocer. I was hungry, and had it in mind to make a fire and grill something up. I had just gotten out my car when a lady approached me. She was a Mexican lady about forty some.

“Will you give me a ride?”

“Where to?”

“York and fifty-six by the McDonalds.”

It didn’t take me long to figure out that she was a working-woman. She wasn’t the most attractive woman in the world, but she had a quality to her that seemed honest.

“Yeah, I give you a ride, but I need to buy a steak first.”

“Okay, honey, I’ll be at the Ninety-nine cent store, I’ll meet you back here.”
"Okay."

It felt like we were in a relationship. We had put a team together. I went into the grocery store and did my thing, and she went her way and did her thing. It was comforting to me in some way.

I picked out a steak and promptly insulted the cashier/owner.

“When’s Crosby coming back?” I asked.

Crosby is musician that plays music at the store. He was on tour.

“He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh, how annoying.”

I failed to tell the owner that Crosby is a friend of mine and that I was just being sarcastic. I didn’t have time for details. The owner was looking off into the distance while I punched in the numbers to my debit card. He was agitated.

I walked out of the store and met the working-woman as planned. She got in my car, and I started to drive.

I thought about Jesus and the company he kept.

“What’s your name,” I asked.

“Maria.”

My Jesus moment took on a new meaning.

“Honey, I can do you a favor, since your giving me a ride?”
I knew what she meant by favor.

“Oh, all I have is dollar,” and that was the truth.

"You and I are in the same boat."

I kept driving.

“Turn here honey. Make a left here honey.”

I found myself in a back alley. I thought Maria was going to do something for free.

“Right here honey.”

I stopped the car. Maria got out. She said good-bye, and that was that.