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Joe found Frank accidentally. He was just looking for a nice place to smoke in quiet when he noticed him trying to skip rocks in puddles from a thunderstorm that had happened the night before. It wasn't working very well.

Joe asked, "You okay, man?"

Frank looked at the rocks in his palm, sighed and dropped them. "Yeah, fine. Thanks for asking."

Joe said, "Sure. Want some weed?"

Frank looked tempted, but in the end he shook his head. "Nah, but thanks."

"Okay. I'm probably just gonna be around the corner, or something, if you change your mind."

"That's sweet," Frank said with a smile. It was kind of a tiny smile for him, but it was real, so Joe smiled back and went to continue on his search. Frank called, "Hey-- Wait. Um. Do you name your guitars?"

"Of course I do. I spend more time strumming those babies than I do my dick. What kind of guitar player doesn't name his guitars?"

"Evidently quite a few."

Joe frowned. "People been giving you shit?"

"Evidently 'Pansy' wasn't the best name to pick for her."

"Oh, huh."

"I was thinking of the flower. My mom used to grow pansies in our window every summer. It's my favorite flower. And when I'm playing her, she--"

"Opens up to you?"

Frank nodded. "Yes. Yes."

"Yeah, I can see-- That's a totally good name. People are just synonymic fucktards."

"Can I quote you on that?"

"Well, nobody'll believe I said it, but sure."

Frank laughed. "What-- What's your favorite one named?"


Frank lit up. "I love Galvatron!"

"You should," Joe told him. "Everyone should."

"Bet nobody gives you shit about that name."

"The few who have have been defeated by Galvatron in his machine of death form."

"Pansy smells good."


"Yeah, I think it's the finisher."

"Our guitars have super-powers."

"I think it's because we name them."

Joe had to agree.

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Skin by egelantier, photo by microbophile