Keith lived and breathed for his Stratocaster guitar, he gave it the moniker Lizzie. She was a beauty, brilliant in her violet and pink gloss, she was every bit the femme, but boy could she whizz out the humm. He was smitten with her.
Keith did more than just play Lizzie, he made love to her. He believed she had a soul, and that she had long ago been bewitched, Watching Keith strum her was a magical, mystical , if not downright intimate experience, he became one with her. People often left the venue wondering if Lizzie was the one playing Keith,
A curiosity seeker ventured upon Keith’s Estate late one night and peered into the windows. He was taken aback by what he saw to say the very least. Keith had Lizzie plugged in to some sort of charging device the likes of which he had never seen before. Candles of Pink and Violet were lit around the room and a sweet smell of incense wafted from the room as Keith chanted in a trance like state. Within minutes Lizzie had transformed into a curvaceous redhead with eyes so blue they were like piercing lasers that burned straight through to my essence. I was fixated on her. I wanted to run, I wanted to hide, but could do nothing but stare. Noticing I was there Keith invited me in, I thought for sure that this was going to be the end for me.
Keith was cool, explained to me that Lizzie was once his wife and her soul was trapped in the guitar and that this was the only way that they could be together. He swore me to silence, and I am not giving his real name right now. We had a few beers, toked on a couple doobies, and jammed out with his woman. I will never forget that night as long as I live.