Journey of a Mad Guitar Player

[guitarhero01234]

Yep, I'm doing this again. I've been insanely bored lately and needed something to do while waiting for my guitar parts to come in the mail, so I figured I might as well start up a new companion piece to Memoirs. This is meant to take place somewhere in the current timeline - not sure exactly when, but I don't think it's all that important. Anyway, let's get right to it!

Journey of a Mad Guitar Player

Chapter 1

“Daddy?” a young voice called out to the sleeping figure.

“Mmrgh.”

“Daddy?” the voice said again, this time a little more forcefully.

“Five more minutes,” the still half-asleep figure mumbled.

This time, a new voice spoke up. “gh, if you don't get your sorry butt out of bed right now, you're really going to regret it. . . .”

This finally got gh's attention. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he was sitting up, the sheets covering from his waist to his lower legs and his feet already touching the floor. “Saffa? How'd you get in here?”

Saffa smirked at gh. “You gave me a spare key, remember?”

“Right,” gh said, still trying to shake off his drowsiness. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Four o'clock,” Saffa said with a heavy sigh. “As in, PM. As in, thirty minutes before you have to be at work.”

“Oh, god da-” gh quickly stifled the curse word about to pass through his lips, noticing Leatherhead's presence. “Er, gosh darn it.”

“I swear, it's like I'm your dad or something- come on, gh, cover up already,” Saffa said as she covered her eyes. gh hastily picked a pair of jeans up off the floor of his thread. “You're lucky I'm here to watch LH. This is, what, the third time I've woken you up like this?”

“Sorry,” gh mumbled sheepishly as he made himself decent. “I should know by now, a RAFian never sleeps. And apparently, that should be taken literally.” Although this was meant to be taken as a joke, there was a hint of bitterness in gh's words. He had only laid down for a nap an hour earlier, after yet another sleepless night.

Saffa gave gh a lighthearted slap on the back. “Just hurry up, before you get fired.”

“Right.” gh threw on a black baseball cap and hurried toward the door. “Thanks again for watching LH for me, Saf. LH, be good for auntie Saffa, alright?” Leatherhead nodded at his adoptive father, a grin affixed to his reptilian face.

“gh?” Saffa sad, exasperation clear in her voice.

“Yeah?”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” gh didn't respond for a good few seconds.

“Uhh . . .”

“You're not wearing a shirt, you dork!” Forgoing the near-instinctual facepalm, Saffa threw a work shirt at gh. Before he could react, the garment wrapped around his face, temporarily blinding him.

“Oh. Yeah, might need that,” he remarked, quickly donning the shirt. He let out a small chuckle. “Y'know, if someone didn't know better, they'd think we were a married couple or something. . . .”

“If the kid wasn't here, I'd smack you for saying that.”

“Okay I love you buh-bye!” gh yelled over his shoulder as he exited his thread. With gh gone, Saffa went to the closet and pulled out a board game to play with Leatherhead.

“There's something wrong with that kid. . . .”

[Cloak]

Wonderful start.

[Underseen]

I read the prequel and am pretty excited to see what you're going to be able to come up with this one. If it is as delightfully bizarre as your first story, then it will be just as good if not better.

[guitarhero01234]

Thanks For the record, I've more or less disowned Diary of a Mad Guitar Player at this point. I'm still fairly proud of Origin, though

New chapter probably gonna come later tonight. Depends on whether I build up the energy to write.

[Cloak]

And its in the same continuity as Memoirs as well.

Depends on whether I build up the energy to write.

Oh, I know this all too well.

[guitarhero01234]

OH GOD I'M TURNING INTO CLOAKY HALP!

New chapter. Sorry if it's not as funny as I meant it to be, but I'm pretty damn tired tonight.

Also, edited my previous post because I realized I accidentally said I was proud of Diary when I meant to say Origin. Dunno how that happened

Chapter 2

gh stood in a restaurant kitchen with a bus tub in one hand and his cell phone in the other. His day (er, night) job wasn't a particularly luxurious one – he was simply a busboy. Though, if one were to ask him, he would say that he was in charge of holding up the walls and taking breaks.

He looked up from his phone for a brief moment to greet the other busboy, who had already been there for a half an hour. “What's up, Kyle?” he said, affecting the demeanor of a disinterested slacker.

“'Sup,” Kyle replied, with a similar lack of enthusiasm. He, much like gh, was on his phone. Both gh and Kyle knew there would be minimal repercussions for not working, seeing how slow the restaurant was on this given night. Still, gh was confident that he could work circles around everyone else there. Best not to draw attention to himself, though.

Kyle dropped his phone in his pocket, finally looking up at gh. “Goddamn, Lewis, you look like hell!”

The two walked out of the kitchen and into a rather secluded section of the dining room. “Yeah, I feel like it. Kid's been sick for three days straight. Haven't gotten any sleep at all from then til, I dunno, three o'clock today?” Of course, the part about his child being sick was a lie, but one that came naturally. At his job, gh wasn't Logan, the guitar player and RAFian, but he was instead Lewis Shuart: single father and high school dropout. Perhaps he didn't need to go to these lengths to protect himself, but gh was convinced that he could never be too careful. Partially to avoid potential legal troubles, but mostly for other reasons entirely.

“Yeah, but I guess it could be worse,” Kyle remarked.

“I don't really see how. . . .”

“You could be wearing that Armadillo Anderson costume again.” Kyle was referring to the mascot for the restaurant; a perpetually smiling cowboy armadillo. gh had to wear the mascot costume quite a few times when a manager named McCarthy worked there. To gh's eternal relief, McCarthy was fired.

gh looked around to see if any guests were in earshot. “Anderson's dead. He died of . . . I dunno, nasal congestion,” gh said with a laugh. “Dude, **** Anderson.”

“Right?” Kyle intoned. “I don't get why they made you wear that stupid-ass costume.”

“Because McCarthy was an asshat, that's why.” gh shook his head. “But seriously, I've had this ridiculous headache these past few days.”

“No joke?” Kyle said with obviously fake sympathy. “You need some sleep, man.”

“Yeah, you're telling me.” gh started to move toward the kitchen again. “I'm gonna go out for a smoke here. You think you can hold the fort down?”

In response, Kyle looked around the restaurant in an exaggerated motion. “What, with it this busy?” he said with thick sarcasm. “I dunno, man, I might have to call in the reinforcements.”

“Yeah, shove it,” gh mumbled. “Not in the mood for stupid **** at the moment. I'll be back in ten.”

[Cloak]

McCarthy was addicted to power tripping. . . .

[theyoungphoenix]

Oooohh... another story i'll get to read.

dang. you guys are making me wanna write a story =d

[guitarhero01234]

Holy crap, sorry I didn't update this for a few days. Life has been really hectic on my end, and I really haven't had the time to work on much of anything. That being said, I managed to find the time to write tonight, and this chapter is where things start to get . . . interesting. . . .

Chapter 3

With as little fervor as humanly possible, gh made his way to the back door. He stepped into the designated smoking area, which was actually an outdoor area with a pair of dumpsters, and silently lit the last cigarette in his pack. If Cloaky finds out about this, I'm dead, for sure, he thought to himself.

“Hey, Lewis,” a voice said, seeming to come out of nowhere. Startled, gh spun around, only to see his manager sitting on an upturned beer keg. “Whoa, what's got you so jumpy?” he commented.

“Nothing,” gh said, affecting the calmest voice he could manage. “Just tired is all.”

The manager raised an eyebrow. “Isn't that what you said yesterday? And the day before that?”

“What, my kid's been sick,” gh said, taking a seat on another keg. “Stomach bug. Thinking it's passed now, though.” He cast a particularly glazed-over look at Nacho – that's what everyone called the manager in question. What his actual name was or how he acquired the nickname Nacho was anyone's guess. “What's it matter, anyway? I can still do my job just as well as I usually do.”

“And there lies the problem,” Nacho said, cracking a lighthearted smirk. “I think you might smoke more than you actually work.”

“Hey, someone's gotta watch the empty kegs! Can't let someone take our seats away.” As gh took a drag on his cigarette, he noticed his hand shaking.

“You sure you're alright, Lewis?” Nacho said, concern evident in his inflection. Clearly, he noticed the tremor, as well.

“Yeah . . . I think.” gh took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair. “I think I just need to finish this shift and sleep for, like, a week straight,” he said, replacing his hat.

“No joke. I'll see if Kyle will trade cuts with you,” Nacho said without a second thought. He stood up to move for the door, until he noticed something odd – namely, gh's entire upper body shaking, much in the same way as his hand was moments ago. “Lewis?” he called out. gh didn't offer a response, other than dropping his cigarette on the ground. And after a brief moment, the convulsions stopped, just as suddenly as they had begun. . . .

* * *

Nothing. As far as gh could see, there was nothing. He stood in a white void, completely alone. He should have been surprised, or at the very least a little uneasy, but the truth was that he had been here before. Once, years ago. . . .

Before gh could ponder on why he was here again, a voice – if it could even be called a voice; it was more of a sentiment or an idea – interrupted his thoughts. Hello Logan my old friend, it mused in a sing-song tone. I've come to talk with you again. . . .

“Great,” gh mumbled. “This again.” He sighed. “You mind cutting the bull**** and telling me what's going on?”

Oh, but what's the fun in that? the “voice” said.

“Come on!” gh yelled, mustering up all the strength he could. “I'm not in the mood for these games, you . . . whatever you are!”

Why, Logan, you aren't enjoying this?

“Don't call me that!” gh said reflexively. “You don't know me, alright!?”

Are you so sure about that? the “voice”asked in its ever-mocking tone. Maybe you wouldn't be so high and mighty if you were aware of what this is about.

“Then how about you show yourself and stop being such a chicken****?” Though he tried to make his words carry an air of confidence, dread began to set in on gh.

Perhaps that's a good idea. . . .

Just then, gh saw something. A distortion in the air, although how one could perceive such a thing in this place is questionable. Regardless, the distortion intensified, until a form began to materialize before gh; vague at first, but gradually gaining definition until a new entity stood in front of gh.

For a moment, gh stood there dumbfounded, unable to conjure the words to express his utter bewilderment. Finally, he spoke up. “. . . Really?”

The form looked at itself, its now-material eyes narrowing at the sight. “Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are.”

“. . . What even are you?”

The figure looked gh dead in the eyes. “I'm you, gh. I'm that part of you that you worked so hard to repress. Your violent urges, your psychotic tendencies. A physical manifestation of-”

“No, I mean, what the actual ****?” gh cut in. “So, you're telling me that my subconscious violent tendencies and neuroses decided to manifest themselves as a ****ing armadillo mascot?”

The entity – who had indeed taken the form of Armadillo Anderson, appeared perplexed as well. “Look, I don't pretend to understand this either.”

“This is just plain stupid,” gh said in a matter-of-fact way. All of his fear and anger seemed to evaporate once the ludicrousness of the situation set in.

“Hey, you're the one who made me like this.”

“Shut up!” gh said, incredulous. “You don't know anything about me!”

Anderson stared gh down for a brief moment. “. . . We are literally the same person.”

“Whatever. You mind telling me why I'm here again in the first place?”

“Oh, just wanted to tell you something might be missing. . . .” Anderson let out a chuckle, and with that, he faded from view, as gh began to slowly return to the real world.

[Cloak]

Heh.

[theyoungphoenix]

haha!! how funny!!

[guitarhero01234]

New chapter. Might be another one later tonight, as well.

Chapter 4

When he came to, the first thing gh saw was Nacho kneeling down and shaking his shoulder. “Lewis? You alright, man?”

“Yeah,” gh said, suddenly and breathlessly. “Yeah. Just, please, stop touching me.”

Nacho kept his hand on gh's shoulder. “You scared me, man. You just seized up and passed out!”

“Yeah . . . I think it's just a bad reaction to my medication,” gh said, trying desperately to think up a lie on the spot. “It got changed the other day. Please, stop touching me.”

Nacho still refused to comply. “Whatever it is, I don't want you passing out again. Let me grab Amy, she should be getting out soon. I'll have her give you a ride home.”

“No, no,” gh said. In his head, he couldn't have his co-workers finding out his status as a RAFian, for multiple reasons. “I'll call a cab. I live . . . on the other side of town. I don't want to make Amy go out of her way. Now please, for the love of God, stop touching me.”

“Amy lives on the other side of town, too.”

gh let out an exasperated sigh. “The other-other side of town, alright? Look, I'll be fine. And if you could release my shoulder from your grasp, that would be splendid.”

“You sure you'll be alright?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine. Especially if you LET GO OF MY SHOULDER, PRETTY PLEASE WITH SUGAR AND A BIG HONKING MARASCHINO CHERRY ON TOP.” The second sentence was said almost as one word, in a cross between a growl and a roar. Clearly, gh was not happy to be touched.

Finally getting the hint, Nacho pulled his hand away. “No need to freak out, Lewis. Get some sleep, alright?”

* * *

gh walked up to his thread, muttering practically every curse word in the book. He liked Nacho, he really did, and he didn't mean to go off on him like that. But something just set gh off, for whatever reason.

He walked into his thread to see Saffa and Leatherhead sitting at opposite ends of the table, playing a rather intense game of Rack-O. They both looked up when he entered with all the fervor of a sloth on benodiazepines.

“You're out early,” Saffa commented.

“Yeah, stuff happened,” gh mumbled, taking a seat at the table. “Why do I even have that . . .” before he could finish his rhetorical question, something caught his eye. Well, not exactly “something,” rather, the lack of something. “. . . Where is it?”

“What?” Saffa replied, looking at gh with a raised eyebrow.

“Señor Butterball. Where is it?”

“What are you even talking about?”

gh's voice got significantly louder and more high-pitched. “My guitar, Señor Butterball. It's always hanging up on that wall over there. Where is it?”

For his own part, Leatherhead appeared to look curious – although, reading his facial expressions was an art known only by a few select RAFians. “It's been gone all day, daddy. Didn't you notice?”

“What?” gh sounded like he was about to burst into tears. “No . . . how did I miss it!? Saffa, you haven't seen it, have you?”

In response Saffa shook her head. “Who names their guitar 'Señor Butterball?”

“Okay,” gh muttered. “I'm not gonna freak out. I'm gonna stay cool. . . .”

Within the next five minutes, gh had effectively torn his thread apart. Not only did he fail to find Señor Butterball, the guitar that he had received from Brynna, but he also could not find any trace of any of his other guitars. Meanwhile, Saffa and Leatherhead could do nothing but watch gh in utter confusion.

“Okay,” gh said, his voice cracking even more than it was earlier. “They're gone. Every single guitar is gone. I can deal.”

Saffa stood up. “gh . . .”

“I CAN'T DEAL!” gh screamed as he collapsed into a gibbering heap on the floor.

“Daddy . . . are you okay?” Leatherhead asked, standing up from his own chair.

Suddenly, gh got off the floor. All of the prior exhaustion had drained from his eyes and been replaced with a burning, angry passion. “Saffa,” he said. His voice was calm, yet low and dangerous. “Get me all the RAFians that are available right now. I'm gonna need some help. . . .”

[Cloak]

. . .

Yes, you certainly do.

There. I said the joke. I couldn't resist.

[guitarhero01234]

Oh, just you wait

Another chapter. May or may not do a third one tonight. Honestly, I'm really enjoying writing this one, perhaps even more than I did Origin. Let's see how long that lasts

Chapter 5

Within the next half hour, Saffa had assembled Xeno, Abby and Hunter into gh's thread. In the meantime, gh seemed to have regained some of his senses, as well as made his thread look at least somewhat presentable. Most of his personal items had found their rightful place, but there was still a sense of scattered disarray throughout the thread.

“Alright,” gh started. He was sat down at the table with Leatherhead, who wore a look of concern on his face. gh held a cup of coffee in his hand; perhaps not the best idea, considering the incident several months back involving his bathtub full of coffee, but that's neither here nor there. “I'm not gonna beat around the bush here. My guitars are missing. Every single one. And I need to get them back. Any questions?”

“. . . That's it?” Xeno commented.

“What?”

“Well, I was expecting a bit of a more detailed briefing, maybe.”

gh looked puzzled. “Whaddaya mean? That's all there is to it. Guitars are gone, I'm losing my mind, case closed.”

“Hey genius, there's a few more details to the story,” a voice from the corner of the room added. “Like, timeframe. Possible suspects. All that jazz.”

gh nodded. “Right. It must have happened at some point within the past twenty-four hours, since I remember playing guitar after work yesterday. After that, LH was asleep and I was out for a walk, so there's a good chance it happened then.” He turned to the previous speaker. “Thank you.” He looked back to the RAFians standing at attention, before slowly turning his head once again toward the corner of the room.

“Surprised?” Anderson said, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

“What the-”

“gh?” Hunter cut in, looking a little perplexed. “Who are you talking to?”

“They can't see me, you know,” Anderson said, still wearing his wide smile. “I'm all in your head, remember?”

“Nobody,” gh said with a dismissive wave. “Sorry, I've barely slept at all these past few days. I'm just seeing things.”

“Good save,” Anderson commented. “You don't want them thinking you're crazy. Even if that is the case. . . .”

“Anyway, they couldn't have gone too far in just one day.”

“Question is, how could someone get past Code Avalon to sneak into your thread?” Abby asked.

“What makes you think I know!?” gh snapped. Abby took a step back, and for a moment, gh felt a little remorse for being so short with his fellow RAFian. “Sorry. But look, I don't know how they could have gone missing. I have a couple guesses as to who could have taken my guitars, but all I have is a hunch.”

“Who, specifically?” Hunter said.

gh took a sip of his coffee, taking his time to formulate a response. “Let's cross that bridge when we get to it,” he finally said. “For now, I think my main priority is to get moving – the longer we sit around and discuss this, the further away the thief is getting.”

“Clever,” Anderson commented, still holding his post in the corner. “Avoid the issue of bringing up your past as much as possible. Let it eat at you from the inside. I like it.”

gh did little more than furrow his brow at Anderson's prodding. “Thing is, I need someone to stay behind and watch LH. Any volunteers?” Immediately, Saffa's hand shot up. “Wow, that was fast.”

Saffa let a smirk creep across her face. “Well, first of all, I'm not too keen on the idea of being around you when you're bouncing off the walls like this.”

“Gee, thanks,” gh muttered with a heavy eye roll.

“Second,” Saffa continued, ignoring gh's remark, “I'd like to finish that game we had going on.”

“Can't I come along?” Leatherhead said, speaking up for the first time since the other RAFians arrived.

gh set down his coffee. “Look, LH, I can't have you come. If it's who I think it is that stole my guitars, things could get dangerous. Real dangerous. And I really, really don't want you getting hurt.”

“But you've been training me!” Leatherhead protested. “I've gotten better! You even told me so.”

“He really is just a naïve little kid,” Anderson said.

gh shot a filthy glare at the empty space occupying the corner of the room. “I'm sorry, buddy, but it's just too risky. I'm afraid it might even be too much for me to deal with, and that's why I'm asking the others to come. If something were to happen to you . . . well, I just don't want anything to happen.” Leatherhead wore a dejected look as his adoptive father turned him down. “Look, I'm sorry, LH. I promise, we'll do something together as soon as I get back, alright?” He pulled Leatherhead into a hug, all the while watching Anderson, expecting some snarky comment. A comment that didn't come.

“Right,” gh said, releasing Leatherhead. He turned back to Abby, Hunter, and Xeno. “If you guys are ready, let's head out.”

[guitarhero01234]

New chapter, and the last one for tonight. For the record, none of this was in the original outline

Chapter 6

“So, quick question here,” Xeno said. “Are we here to look for gh's guitars, or to go shopping?” Indeed, the four RAFians (and Anderson, although whether or not he was really there was up for debate) were standing outside a small guitar shop, not too far from RAF itself.

“The latter,” gh replied, not seeming to catch Xeno's sarcasm. “Although, if things work out, I wouldn't mind doing a little of the former.”

“But why would they be here?” Hunter inquired. He and Xeno were both wearing ID masks, which projected the image of human bodies. Abby and gh did not need said masks, for obvious reasons.

“Well, if the thief was just looking to make some money, they probably would have sold them here.” gh shrugged. “It's worth a shot, at least.” And with that, gh walked in the door, the others following him.

What greeted the RAFians was a building packed to the brim with guitars, bass guitars, audio equipment, keyboards, drums, ukuleles, banjos, mandolins, kazoos . . . surely, this place would have been heaven for gh on any other day. But today, he was a mission. And of course, he didn't want to bore his friends by gawking over the instruments.

Without hesitation, gh made his way to the wall of used guitars. He began closely inspecting them while the others watched from a distance. A few of them very closely resembled his guitars, almost down to the smallest detail. If one were to listen carefully, gh could be heard mumbling about the guitars, things along the lines of, “no, there should be a scratch right there,” or, “the knobs are different on this one.”

After a few minutes of inspection, gh stepped away, shaking his head. “No dice,” he said. “Absolutely nothing.”

It was at this moment that an employee of the store came up to the group. “Hey, can I help you with anything?”

Hunter spoke up. “No, thanks, we're just looking around.”

“Just looking?” the clerk confirmed. “Alright. What's your budget?”

“Uh, hold up,” gh said, allowing himself to get distracted. “Like he said, we're just looking at stuff today.”

“Right. So, what's your budget?”

Anderson, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed, drummed his fingers on his bicep. “Well, they seem to hire some real winners here, don't they?”

gh rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “We don't have one, okay?”

“I'm sorry?” the clerk said, obviously ticked off. “So, why exactly are you here?”

“Like we said, we're here to 'look around,'” gh said, his voice tense. “Y'know, view the merchandise. Peruse. Weigh our options. You dig?”

“Yeah, I dig. But I'm saying that you're not leaving here without buying something from me. You dig?”

“. . . Excuse me?” gh said, a mix of shock and anger permeating these two words.

Anderson, likewise, looked dumbfounded. “Wow, even I think this guy's a dick.”

Xeno stepped in. “Is there a manager we can speak to?”

“Oh, yeah, let me get him!” The clerk took one step away, only to immediately step back toward gh. “Oh, it's me! I'm the manager!”

“Dude, what is your problem?” gh asked.

“You are not leaving this store without- hold on.” He stopped to think. “Wait, we don't get paid on commission anymore!” And with that, he walked away.

For a moment, gh stood there, completely dumbfounded by this encounter. This state didn't last for long, however. “Hold on, you monolithic asshat!” he yelled, reaching for the nearest guitar. One which just so happened to have the face of Hello Kitty painted on the body.

Abby promptly slapped her face with her palm. “gh, cool it.”

“I SAID, HOLD ON, DOUCHEBAG!” gh screamed, clearly ignoring Abby. At this point, all of the patrons of the shop stopped what they were doing and stared at gh. In fact, the only person who didn't seem to notice gh was the manager. This didn't please gh. He began to charge toward the manager, whose back was still turned, until he felt a sharp pressure pulling him backward. “WHAT THE HELL!?”

“Come on, gh,” Abby said, pulling gh toward the door by his ear. “I think it's time we left.”

“ABBY, LEGGO MY EAR!”

“Uh, Abby?” Xeno said. “The guitar?”

“Oh,” Abby vocalized, noting the guitar being held in a death grip by gh. Hunter attempted to pry the instrument from gh's hands, to no avail. With her free hand, Abby dropped a few bills on the counter. “Keep the change!” she yelled, hoping that somebody heard her over gh's psychotic shrieking. “Thanks!”


This video heavily inspired this chapter, by the way.