El versus Yo

I was sitting down alone at the Split Coconut, trying like mad to mind my own god damned business.  But loudmouth, sitting (ohhhh, say) 10 feet away or thereabouts, was well on his way to irritating the fuck out of me.  Thankfully I had been drinking.  

“Well Dylan wrote that song because…and this one guitar player in my first touring band just wasn’t getting it…I’ll take old Canadian Blues any day over that new shit from the states…so I finally had to tell Liberace that it’s a guitar song, not a piano song.” 

The hot sun was setting over the warm sea.  The boldest cloud in the sky took after Motzart.  The whole moment had me in a trance.  Right then i overheard Jackass tell the server that he didn’t want avo on his burger because avo isn’t good for you.

That’s it!  I slammed my thrid and finul beer.  I stood up, did a couple of full neck rotations in both directions, a few light back bends, cracked some knuckles, put the mean mask on, and walked over to his plastic table in the sand.  And This Is How She Blew:

Yo:  What’s up Jimi?  Hey i tried my absolute best to under-hear most of the cocky nonsense that was spewing out of your Canadian pie chute, but couldn’t.  You are Canadian right?  Wait, let me guess… you’re some hot shot blues guitar player from the Toronto scene?

El: Who the fuck are you asshole?

Yo:  Yeah, I’m just the guy your inflated guitar hero ego hates to be around.  Stroking that string instrument like it’s your tiny dick.  I’m so sick of guys like you.  You ain’t no fucking artist.  Your a musical widget!  Dime a Dozen!  Now get over yourself!!

El:  What the fuck are you talking about?

Yo:  I don’t care how good you are, or how much you know, or how much stupid equipment you got, or how many loop pedals you push down on stage, or who you know, or where you’ve toured.  I don’t care where or how you plug in, and I don’t care about your Les Paul or your Kirk Gibson or any of your other closed minded musical spew.  And i don’t give a fuck if you got more talent in one of your fat fucking fingers with your eyes closed than i will ever have!

El:  Huh?

Yo:  And furthermore Susan, i wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if you will never be as indie or as slick as me, because my shit is the truth, and it’s from the heart.  And if I want to play Little Feat or James Taylor on the keys to an audience of nobody, then you better give up your seat, because it’s standing room only for you, and it’s coming in hotter than any of that 1-4-5 crap you put out.

El:  Hey dude, I don’t know who you are, or what you’re on, but I suggest you take a hike before you get yourself into more trouble than you can handle.

Yo:  Can you sign my T-shirt?

El:  Beat it Shroeder!!