All This Time

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Jordan threw a Concussion Party for me. I’m not kidding. I don’t know who told him what was going on but what we found when we got to his place was ambient techno burbling in the background from a new surround-sound speaker system he’d recently installed and ambient lighting low.

The first person I saw after walking in the door was Bradley, looking very doe-eyed, clutching a beer and standing at the edge of the kitchen counter. Before I could get to him, though, Marvelle intercepted me. I swung my left hand toward him and he, like Artie, didn’t blink, just locked fingers with me thumb-wrestling-style and clapped me on the back of the shoulder with his other hand. “Gonna bubblewrap you, man. Make a Daron-shaped foam cut out and put you in an Anvil case.”

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