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Thread: The Amp, the Guitar and the Studio

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    A♥ hoards guitars ♥A rugerpc's Avatar
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    Jun 2012
    deep in the raspberry...

    The Amp, the Guitar and the Studio

    EDIT: This is a contributive story. You are invited to enjoy the story or even add to it. Feel free to add characters and plot twists. Please be careful not to completely derail or end another member's developing story line. Let people have most of the control over characters that they introduce. As a general rule - don't kill off characters you have not introduced, unless of course it is a minor leprechaun someone put in your way. Sergio's head leprechaun will require a team effort to kill. If you have a doubt or suggestion, PM the author handling the character in question at the moment. Make sure you have read the whole story before jumping in. Refer back to posts as an author may have edited his storyline a bit in an important way. Have fun. I'll update the cast of characters as we go along in post #66 - fittingly only one order of magnitude away from 666 and the release of the immortal evil leprechaun in Las Vegas...

    Glambin Turkkel stumbled through his studio holding a glass of water. He was looking for the bottle of Advil he remembered seeing somewhere in the amp section earlier in the week. Those late night recording sessions he was doing with the Paul Reed Smith Band were starting to take their toll. It didn't help that the ghost of George Harrison had kept him from really getting any sleep until just about 2 hours ago. Then he was awake again.

    Glambin was also a little miffed at Smith. Paul had been complaining about the studio soundproofing again. "I swear that man can hear a mouse fart," he thought to himself not for the first time. The Grainger brothers had known better than to roll their eyes, they knew Paul had the best hearing in the business. Glambin had to agree it was true as well, especially after 'the incident.'

    But, he didn't want to think about that now. He only wanted the tiny man in his head banging away on Greg's kit to go away. As he looked between the HX/DA and the Super Dallas, Glambin felt a hot, burning sensation in his left temple. The pain was excruciating. He fell to his knees and was dead before his head hit the floor.

    Across town, Bennett put away his Glambin vodoo doll and chuckled to himself. His plans were on track and he could see little to stop him this time.
    Last edited by rugerpc; 02-28-2013 at 12:23 PM.
    Gork what your need to gork.

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