PUT “♪” IN MY ASK BOX AND I WILL SHUFFLE MY PLAYLIST, TAKE THE SONG I GET, USE MY FAVORITE LINE FROM IT, AND CONSTRUCT A STARTER FOR US WITH IT! “Welcome one and all to the Theater of the Absurd,” Demencia teased.
She opened the door to show Shimmer around the BHO lab. She knew the demon had never been inside the mansion and technically visitors were a no-no but she’d take the flack if something went wrong. Nobody was home but them.
“This is where the Doctor does his stuff. I was made here…” she gestured to all the equipment and experiment tables.
Shimmer smirked at Demencia as was kissed, but just as quickly, she pulled her back in closer for another, gently biting Demencia’s bottom lip as she released her. “Mmmm, as much as I’d like to keep kissing you, that actually sounds awesome. You know, I play a little myself. But sure. I’d love to hear you play.” She said, sitting down on the bed with a smile.
“Alright, strap it, sexy! Here come the big guns! Well, hehe. Not those guns,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Those come later.”
She reached for her guitar and adjusted it a little before breaking into a small guitar solo that began slow but moved into something almost psychotically fast and maddening but still melodic. It was clear she practiced everyday and that, despite her spastic behavior, she had a real knack for this. She then did the solo from Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb and finished off.
“There!” she laughed. “How about you give it a try?” she offered the guitar to the demon.
“Woo!” She said, clapping slightly as Demencia clapped slightly. “Guess it’s my turn.”
Shimmer gently took the guitar from Demencia as she adjusted herself. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not as good as you, it’s just been awhile since I’ve played.” She gently ran her fingers over the strings and took a deep breath, strummed the strings once… and played.
Her fingers gently worked the strings as she strummed, the melodic tune filling the room. Shimmer had her eyes closed, seemingly in concentration as she played, but as she began to pick up speed, the smallest of tears began to form.
She shot up from where she was sitting in, snarling in rage as her once melodic sound began to distort and twist, tears now streaming down her face. Suddenly, she held the guitar aloft, and was about to swing it down, until she caught herself, and looked over at Demencia. “I… I’m sorry…” she whispered.
TheWanderingSunset2 