You could tell by just looking at me. I looked out of place in this preppy city of Las Vegas, where all the greatest shows, casinos, and hotels are...
I want to live somewhere...or should I say nowhere?
I hated being here. There were too many people, too many people who know about here too. I want to live somehwhere no one knows exists, and no one knows where I am. Kind of like hiding, exept I'm not hiding from anyone but myself.
Life. Life. Life. Shit.
I needed to do something creative, an artistic hobby of some kind. I wouldn't really call them "hobbies". And if I didn't do one, I would never hear the end of it from my mother.
Mother sighned me up for guitar lessons. So now I'm walking towards a studio, in the middle of nowhere, about to make a fool of myself by trying to learn guitar. The doors where old, scratched and wooden. Oh god, I hate this.
No, I despise this.
I walk into the studio, quickly inspecting my surroundings. The walls were beige with Christmas lights strung up. How tacky. I walk farther and inspected the posters tacked up on the ugly walls. Some dumb bands I couldn't identify.
I finally got tired of carrying this piece of shit around.
I placed the guitar case on a table sitting in the middle of the room. The table was covered in scratches and stains. There was a box of multi-colored guitar picks and a plastic cup of old murky water. I unclip the case and pull out the small guitar inside.
It was my friends old Hello Kitty guitar, from when she was seven. I wasn't going to pay a ton of money for to get something I didn't want to get, so Hello Kitty was my only choice. I start strumming the strings, making some sort of horrible sound.
I jump, turn around, not even noticing who it is and say;
Squinting, I look this kid who snuck up on me over.
His light brown hair covered one honey eye slightly, casting a shadow over the right side of his face. His t-shirt said "Fall Out Boy", and his skinny black cords hugged his ano-looking thighs.
As we stood in silence, I thought,
Say something you dumbass, open your mouth.
The guy sort of laughed. WEll who could blame him, I said YO.
He laughed at everything I do...how funny.
"You good, at guitar?" He asked.
"Um, no way. I haven't played. Like ever," Nice speech.
"Do you play?" I ask.
"Yeah, well I'm in a band,"
"Whats your name? Uh, of the band?"
He paused before answering quickly, "Panic at the Disco,"
And then, silence.
Jut then, as the silence bagan to eat me alive, a older man entered the room. He walked over to me.
"So you're Rizzie, right?"
"Thats a cool name," The older guy commented.
"So have you ever played a guitar?"
"Ever strummed strings?"
"Ever picked one up?"
He sighed, "We've got lots of work to do,"
"Im Tyler, your teacher," He smiled, then glanced over at that skinny kid, "And that's Ryan over there, my 'sidekick',"
Ryan waved and smiled.
Tylers phone rang just after he'd finihed introducing us.
"Oh hey Buddy,"
"You need help with your guitar?'
"Ok I'll be right there,"
Tyler hung up his phone.
"Sorry guys but Buddy Neilson needs some help with his guitar, I gotta go. Ryan you mind taking over?"
Ryan hobbled over to the seat next to me, plopping himself down and grabbing my ridiculous pink guitar.
"The begging notes you should learn are B, C, D, E, F, G and A," He started, strumming each string to create a different sound. After demenstrating, he handed me the guitar and told me to play...
"Whoa, did I just play those right?"
"Yup," Ryan smiled.
The clock suddenly struck 2 P.M.
"Alright well that it I guess," He sighed, closing his music book, "See you next week,"
"Yeah," I say, and watch him walk out of the dusty studio.
I love you like a fat kid loves birthday cake.