With guitar in hand I returned to the quarry the other day. I was hoping to get another glimpse of the mysterious hand that had appeared earlier in the week and given me the magic guitar. To be honest, I was hoping that would become a regular thing. I could make a killing selling vintage guitars on ebay-and with the magic thing thrown in...whoa.
Well, there was no go on the free axe front. I waited two days with no sign of the hand. I decided to go fishing.
I didn't have any worms to use for bait, so I just tied an old 45 of "Surfin' Bird" to the end of the line and tossed it in the water.
Right away I hooked into the biggest cat fish you've ever seen. Man, if you think you’ve ever seen a catfish bigger than this, than you must be mixing too much ben gay in with your nasal spray. You’ve never seen a whopper like this. I’ll bet you a herd of giraffes against a bobby pin that you haven’t. Not only was it big, but it was wearing sweat pants and a tuxedo jacket. I started to ask it what its name was , but just then a big meteor came out of the sky and landed right on the fish's tummy. The fish unleashed a robust cough that echoed like a three thousand ambulances taken down about thirty octaves. As the behemoth sound roared forth from the fish, a bass guitar shot from its stomach. When it hit the ground, there was a big explosion that turned a small rock formation into a drum set.
As though guided by the ghosts of rock legends, we took up our instruments and began to jam. The catfish on bass, the meteor on drums, and yours truly on guitar.
"What are your names?" I asked.
"Groves" said the Fish.
"Chuck" said the meteor.
We decided to name the band after my third cousin, hence the name Evil Wiener.
Wanna hear us? That’s what links are for!!!
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