Out of Tune

ILLUSTRATION by BOB AUL

It’s three in the morning and your friend is still playing Godspeed riffs while you, stoned out of your gourd, play the same retarded pattern on what sounds like a floor tom with a blanket over it. FUCKING ENOUGH ALREADY. I came over once and asked nicely, really nicely. You answered the door and the first thing you said was a patronizing “Oh, are we playing far too loud?” Hmm, yes, well it was 1:30 on a Monday night back then, and back then you were playing a full drum set—perhaps it was a bit “far too loud.” (Who the fuck talks like that?) Then for at least a half hour your friend meditated on the notes E, C sharp, and B. I know this because I play guitar, too, and having said that, the least he could do is fucking shred. Were he practicing Yngwie Malmsteem riffs into the night I could at least take comfort knowing that he’s motivated to do something other than jerking off over a delay pedal for three hours. DELAY PEDALS ARE FOR PUSSIES. MUSIC SUCKS.

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