“You know it, dude,” the bandanna-clad rocker replied.

Jonni Shredd, king of the wild fretboard, baddest axe-fiend in the history of the north-central Delaware metal scene. So how’s my Angelyque, Doc?”

“Well, I don’t quite know how to say this. But it’s as bad as we feared. It seems that all of her innards have been – well – ripped out. The pickups, the wiring, the cable jack, all of it gone. And the strings, too, that goes without saying. I’m sorry.”

A tear rolled out from under Jonni’s reflector shades. “Oh, Angelyque…my baby, my sweet guitar…what did those bastards do to you? And why, why?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that’s not all.”

“Not all? What else is there? If they did anything sick to my Angelyque, swear to God I’ll cut off every one of their – ”

“No, nothing like that. But whoever did this to your guitar didn’t stop at destroying her. They added the necessary circuitry and parts to turn her into – into – ” He couldn’t say it. It was too awful. But he knew he must. “Into a Playstation controller.”

The ultimate defilement! Jonni broke. He howled, wailed, bawled. His carefully cultivated rocker’s mask shattered like the guitars he used to smash onstage before he met Angelyque. A few of the customers at the guitar store turned and looked, but most knew what Jonni must be going through. The averted their eyes and thanked the rock gods it wasn’t them.

“Her body is still that of a real guitar,” Doc went on, after a moment of respectful silence. “The same wood body, maple neck, and rosewood finger board. But with 5 fret buttons, 5 solo buttons, a bi-directional strum bar, and wireless capability, the only killer licks she’ll be playing are the ones licensed for use with Guitar Hero or Rock Band. Again, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

As the repairman spoke, Jonni went cold. He knew what he had to do. Normally, he’d never be caught dead playing those fake-ass guitar games like some loser. But this wasn’t a normal situation. He’d spend as much time learning those games as he needed to – years, if that’s what it took. He’d find the scumbags that did this to his Angelyque. And he’d shred them at their own game.

Doc noticed Jonni’s blank expression with concern. “Is there anything I can do? I’ll give you a deal on any guitar in the store.”

Jonni shook his head. “No thanks, Doc. I just have one question. Is there a GameStop or something around here?”

Doc understood. “Next strip mall up the road, next to Ruby Tuesday. And, Mr. Shredd? Jonni?”

“Yeah, Doc?”

“Death to false metal.”

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