"1...2...3...1.2.3.4!"

I hit the distortion pedal with my foot.

"Looooooooooord I can't change"

I was strumming to the rhythm pattern to the song "Free Bird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I'm using my Gibson Les Paul Custom that I spent 5 long, hard, sweaty years working for.

"So won't you flyyyyyy high, Freeeeeeeeeeeee birrrrrrrrd yeah!"

I struck the first 4 notes in the correct order, accompanied by bends. My guitar whaled as the windows shook. My small Vox amplifier had been shaking to the beat of the song. I was playing a long with the solo, which I spent a few years learning. I could feel the carpal tunnel arise at certain parts of the solo where very fast notes were played.

"DLULULULUL*chink*DULULULULL*clank*DLULULULULULUL" was the sound I had been producing during complicated moments.

After 4 minutes of my hands going through hell and back, I finally finished, sweat building up on my temple. I lowered my guitar back onto its stand and turned off my amplifier...until it made a ear-ringing bang sound as smoke began to shoot up from the back of the small powered amplifier.

"WHAT THE HELL?!?!" I exclaimed as I quickly threw myself at the wall and unplugged the amplifier to prevent it from catching on fire.

"God dammit, there goes $90". I had enough money to purchase a new amplifier known as the "Vox AC30". They ran about $400-$500. I was the type of person who really needed a good reason to procrastinate in buying such things. I had a good reason now, my current amp was broken. Even though at any given time I could have went out and bought the AC30, I was basically looking for something more of a higher priority to come along, such as an auto repair or a replacement part to any product. Now that I have no reason to procrastinate further, I picked up my Les Paul again, slung the guitar-strap on me and shifted the guitar to my back. Its gold colored hardware glared in the sunlight. I needed to bring it into the guitar shop , so I can test it out on the amp first to see if I like the tone or not before buying.

I walked out of my room, walked down the hall into the medium sized living room with white painted walls and a few paintings, and went into the kitchen. My parents were both at work at the time, and I happen to be on winter vacation away from college, visiting them. I had the whole house to myself all day. I grabbed my car keys from the counter and my wallet. $500 in total that I have saved up for from my weekend job at the computer repair store where I studied at. I walked out of the kitchen and back across the living room and out the front door.

Since my parents had their car parked in the garage, I had mine out on the street. I owned somewhat dusty/dented, 1973 Porsche 911 in a black shade that I bought off of a friend for $5,000. I walked over to my car, unlocked the door, swung my guitar around to my chest and removed it and placed it in the seat next to me and I sat down. I closed the door, put the keys in the ignition and started her up. At first it cranked a few times as the engine wasn't exactly "in great condition", but eventually it started up. I hit the clutch, shifted into 1st gear and headed off.

My parents live in a desert town 3 hours away from Los Angeles. Victorville was 50 minutes away, complete with a music shop that I know of where they sell the amplifier I was looking for. I was heading down the freeway going 85 mph, Van Halen blasting in the background. It was 6:00 PM and the sun was moments away from vanishing out of the night sky. I was traveling along, when suddenly a flash of green light occurred, accompanied by a loud, electric shock noise.

"OH SHIT" I yelled as the sudden event made me loose control of my vehicle. "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK" I said as I tried to regain control of my vehicle, I over corrected. I felt my small Porsche balance itself on two wheels, then began to roll over at 85mph. Objects and empty soda cans were flying left and right as I was rolling in circles. I hit my head on the steering wheel as broken glass and metal shards wiped around me, I passed out.

After a few hours, I began to slowly regain consciousness. My vision went from black to a blurred, blue, image. My vision began to clear up just enough that I can tell my whereabouts. I regained full view. I laid there, with my mind racing faster than a Bugatti Veryon. When I began to get a hold of my thoughts, I noticed something strange about the sky. It was a solid shade of light blue. No hues, no gradients, just solid. I moved my eyes upward to see a big, green hill with a black outline around it. Once again, solid green. Like if it was out of a cartoon.

I tried to muster up strength to get up. It took me a few attempts to sit-up. I felt a warm liquid running down my arm, but paid no attention to it. I slowly looked to my left to see my Les Paul, laying on the brown ground, which I assumed was dirt. To my eyes, I could not believe it. It was a solid color of a blackish grey, complete outline surrounding it, all strings attached. It looked exactly from a cartoon. I looked the other way to my right to see a small puddle of reflecting water. I slowly moved my limbs one by one over to the puddle. Once I finally reached the puddle and looked into it, I could not comprehend what I'm looking at.

"What the..." were the only words I managed to make out. I looked at myself in the reflection. I looked straight out of a cartoon. My skin is a solid shade of its natural color (I'm Caucasian). My eyes were still the same normal size, My long, shoulder length hair swayed with every move I made, having it being a solid color of dark brown. I could see all my cuts and wounds from the accident. I quickly looked up, the remains of my car were no where to be found. I simply could not process all of this, and quickly fainted. Right before my vision and hearing faded, I heard words from what I would assume would be a delicate female. After that, I lost consciousness.