A Case Study

by PrincessPeace15

Hmm... Earth and Heaven have become one. Surely, an author could help to put it in the proper light. A self-insert? Oh, as much as I want to, and have my ways... I shouldn't. That's no fun for the reader. Hmm... Okay... how about an in-depth look at what the characters of Rhythm Heaven Megamix like and dislike? That's SCIENTIFIC storytelling... or just regular, reason storytelling.

2. Pipsqueak (Barista's Disliking F Chord)

To say that someone could ever feel pure agony behind a guitar… It would likely seem a hogwash statement to the common listener.

Since when has anyone felt torture behind a guitar? You see them at parties and on street corners. More than often, whoever is plucking the strings is doing so to either attract a mate, bring out the happiness in the air, or perhaps try to find happiness of their own. Or a gumbo of it all. In all of these endeavors, success is almost guaranteed, as are smiles. You never see agony at a bonfire, when someone is playing an old favorite on a fresh wooden guitar.

Sure, learning the ways of a guitar might seem like agony… but more than often, what ends up happening is either defeat or pride. Usually, when someone is learning the guitar, one of two things is bound to happen. Either the short-tempered soul sets the guitar down and decides never to return, or the talent is eventually picked up, and all those dissonant chords and empty hours are completely worth it.

…But here… for the pup with the headphones… each strum of the guitar rattled his mind with memories fresh and horrid.

Some of his earliest memories were those of being bullied for his dot-like eyes and his lonely being.

"Pipsqueak" was a frequent one.

Oh, they were all much bigger dogs, the specific gang that did this for fun. Bigger breeds. Bigger potentials. The torment, the names… Memory had a hard time serving the points at which it all ended once it decided to begin. Memory skips right from that to the times he'd walk past the yard where the gang hung out.

They'd do their group vow (which memory couldn't necessarily serve), then strum the F chord on the guitar. Like their musical call. Their theme song. Their symbol.

This pup, who called himself a barista, had to admit he had it much better now. He was dry. He was warm. A roof and walls surrounded him, and for being surrounded, he couldn't be happier.

Nevertheless, he sat in front of a guitar.

And it ate away at his heart. More than often, he'd strum, then immediately punch the poor instrument so hard he nearly punctured the wood.

Agony behind a guitar is hogwash, they would say.

Oh, they would… if they could ever play more than an F chord.