So I went to go meet this guy who was interested in my Melee Weapon and Soul Casket musical gear. I was sitting in the parking lot waiting around for this guy to show up, when suddenly I had a bad feeling. A van pulls up, and who just happens to be driving? Satan. No joke. Satan himself is in the driver's seat, sipping on a Mojito directly from a clearly long departed human skull, and he's got 5 guys in robes, and 2 females, both naked and bound, to be offered as sacrificial virgins, in the back. In the seat next to him, rested a leather satchel, crafted from human flesh.
"Psssssst. Hey, kid" he slithered. "Are you the one with the boxsss full of tortured sssoulsssss for sssale?" He took a long draw on his huge cigar, the burning end's fiery glow intensifies for a few moments before he let the smoke slowly rise from his twisted, gnarled grin; a glint of eager anticipation in his eye. He reeked of tannis root.
"Yes, Your Malignance, I am" I timidly replied, barely able to believe that I was actually speaking with the Great Adversary himself. My voice had a quiver, I was both extremely nervous, and awestruck. "These are my treasured items, they have served me well. The time has arisen for me to cross to the next plane of Dark Magick practicion, and these items have nothing left to show me. I have exhausted all their teachings. I must now pass them on to another initiate, and acquire new Magickal weaponry."
"What'sss your priccce, my child?" he hissed, his wicked grin quickly fading. "For the number of sssoulsss I ssstand to gain, I will allow you to keep your own sssoul, but I am only willing to give you five-thousssand-eight-hundred and thirty-two dollarsss, not the sssixxxty-sixxx-thousssand, sssixxx-hundred sssixxxty-sssixxx you had hoped for. If you truly need the larger sssum, I will be forccced to take your sssoul as part of the deal, in exchange..."
I stood silent for a moment, carefully considering my options. On the one hand, I may keep my soul, and get some pretty great gear out of the deal, but there were no guarantees or promises of success. On the other hand, I was guaranteed money, and success, but it would come with a steep price: my very soul. Now, Satan's a pretty cool guy and all, but I didn't like the idea of being owned by the dude. I became aware that he was growing ever impatient with the time it was taking me to go over my options. For a second, I contemplated calling the whole thing off and going home with my weapon and casket, no sale made.
He saw immediately.
"YOU WOULDN'T DREAM OF SSSUMMONING ME ALL THE WAY UP HERE ONLY TO CAST ME INTO THE PIGSSS?" he bellowed, a little hellfire escaping his wire-thin lips, "WOULD YOU??"
A puddle began to form at my feet.
"No, Your Grace, No!!" I cried. "This Melee Weapon and Soul Casket are yours! I will accept your most generous offer of $5,832, and I will keep my soul, if you allow it!!"
The toothy grin crept back onto Satan's face. "Good." he said. "Good."
He reached his long, whispy arm all the way across the van, plunged his clawed fingers into the leather satchel still resting on the seat next to him, and pulled out a very large amount of lettuces. "Here" he said. "Thessse are sssome of my very own finessst herbsss. Ussse them wisssely."
He conjured the cash money right in his hand, placed it in a purple Crown Royal bag, dropped in the devil's lettuce, and thrust it towards me.
"T-t-thanks, Satan" I muttered, as one of the robed men from the back grabbed up the weapon and casket.
They vanished into shadow, and I was once again alone, as suddenly as they came.
"Damn!" I thought to myself. "I need some water for the bong. This stuff smells amazing. Tomorrow, I'll go to Doc's and see what kind of deals on gear he's got going on"
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I woke up about noon, with a stoneover. I meandered out to the dining room, poured a bowl of cereal, and began to replay the events of the night before in my head. It took me a few moments to remember that I had something I needed to do today.
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The JVM should be versatile, dependable, and has everything from vintage to modern tones. This will be the perfect all-round base rig to build upon, as a standalone, or a pedal platform. Plus, it says Marshall on it. Known as the sonic hammer of the gods (or devils).
Gibson V? 'Nuff said. From blues to rock to metal, this guitar has a place there. Color can be changed at will.
1960B speaker cabinet...welp, I needed
some type of speaker cabinet, better have one that matches the head sitting on top of it.
TubeScreamer. It makes the tubes scream. That's all we need to know. Screaming tubes are a
good thing.
GE-7 for fine tuning the sinister sizzle that the JVM and TubeScreamer will produce together.
The Crybaby is for when the inspiration to channel Kirk Hamplanet strikes. And also for when I'm too drunk to play clean lead runs, this will cover my ass.
---------------------------
I had $1,204 remaining, after having got some decent deals at the music store.
With nothing left that I absolutely needed to have, I piddled the remaining sum on hookers, blow, hair products, contraceptives, and street tacos. After all, if I'm gonna talk the talk, I had better walk the walk. No posers survive.
I was now ready. Ready to rock, and ready to roll. I just needed to find a toilet after the tacos, and then my journey was to begin.
ty venue front of house guy is trying to give you in your stage monitor! 
