Last night I went over to Cherry Hill to buy my friend’s amp. Technically, it is a keyboard amp, but I’ll be running my guitar through an effects processor and into the amp, so I need something with very little to no distortion to change the sound.

It’s a 150-watt Roland KC-500 amplifier for all of you guitar geeks out there, and it has a 15” speaker. It’s friggin’ huge. And I live in an apartment with hardwood floors. My neighbors are going to be soooo pissed off. I think I need to buy a piece of carpet remnant to dampen the vibration between it and the floor. Hopefully that will help a bit.

Anyway, my friend Blair, whose amp this was, is moving to San Diego with his brother. They are driving out the end of the month and they have no plan, whatsoever. And by no plan, I mean that they think they’ll just get an apartment once they arrive in town, and they’ll also just get jobs. What can go wrong?

When my friend Chip asked them how they will be driving out to Cali, Blair replied, “I don’t know. We’ll just go down to North Carolina and make a turn.” This from the man who when he reached the Jersey Turnpike had to ask if Boston was North or South.

Anyway, I got home to find a letter under my door. I think I’m being haunted by the Jaegermeister button I accidentally dropped in the toilet over the weekend. Poor Blinky.

Anyway the letter read:

Dear ex-friend,

How could you do this to me? After all the good times we had together, you left me in that bowl, drowning in urine, every few minutes to be tossed about on a merry-go-round from Hell, unable to escape. You have no clue what that fat woman did to me! (Or rather on me.) Ten pounds of pork does some mean things to the lower intestine, let me assure you.

Couldn’t you see me flashing up at you, blinking S.O.S in Morse Code? How could you forsake me? Were you that drunk? Or that uncaring?

I mean, after you flushed, it was basically clean water. You could have easily lifted me out and washed me off. But no. You left me rotting in that cesspool of human waste, the fetid water seeping through my plastic housing and torturously corroding my cheaply made Korean innards. Damn you! Damn you to Hell!

I shall have my revenge.

Love,

Blinky

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