ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 56
son to Pat's. Pat's life was like the snag ofa sweater, always just one stitch
away from unravelling; his dad, the snagrnaker, always tugging at the yarn.
Pat had to look out for Pat. Whereas Pat was sensible, responsible, careful
(if not predictable), Tony was flippant. He felt that he had been unjustly
treated by Life, and felt Life owed him one. But for now he would get out of
the shower and wait for Larry. Smoke a yendo. Play guitar.
Tony rigged up his system, which consisted frugally of an inexpensive
copy of the copy of THE copy of a guitar designed by a guy from Tennessee,
which was fed into ( the guitar, now, not the guy from Tennessee) a small yet
powerful amplifier, made by the same company that later on made millions
on a new type of stereophonic earplug.
The music store salesman really knew how to direct his customer.
"Yes sir, this boy'll make your ears ring, your gums bleed, and all the hair on
your back fall out. It won't even bust your wallet," he had said. Seeing Tony
hesitate, he had added, "I'll even throw in the earplugs." "I'll take it."
With the money he saved on the amp, Tony had purchased two digital
effects pedals, one, a rnulti-fex that was capable of flange, derange, all out
change. Then there was "Chainsaw Distortion." While he carefully and
clinically tested the "Multi-Fex" pedal under various musical conditions,
including "Heavy Metal Mutants from Space" and "Jazz Disorders." the
brought the Chainsaw home still in the box, for his musical instincts told him
that if in the galaxy there existed an effects pedal to own, cherish, and
ultimately rule the world with, it was there before him. Besides, it came with
safety goggles.
Just as he had finished feeding the pedals into the system, in
apprehension of striking that ultimate, all-involving, world-dominating
powerchord, one capable of bringing tall buildings crashing down, leaving
nations in total political, social, and economic upheaval, the doorbell rang.
At this moment of personal detachment and attainment, who would dare
come between a boy and his Chainsaw, who else, except of course Larry.
"Corne on in, Bobby Batshit, and my, what timing." Tony knew the
Chainsaw could wait, but he was all the same miffed at Larry.
"What kind of greeting is that for the man who has brought you the
finest brew the Occident has ever had the full-bodied pleasure to know?"
"Let me guess. Coors, right?"
"Hey, bud, the most honorable beer to ever make its way west of the
Rockies. Why, I know a guy who'd kill a man for a six-pack."
ยท
"Yeah, and I know a few who died after DRINKING one. Muchas
gracias, yo no ko oye."
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