W900 excerpt: Lady Jezebel
Hovis carefully unfastened the catches and reverently opened the case. He gazed down on Jezebel as she nestled in her velvet lined nest, Hovis smiled. Distorted memories of several Fester’s gigs flooded into his mind and the bands imagined triumphs, played again in his twisted memory. A jumbled mass of perceived past glory’s, the drink, the drugs and the girls swamped his mind and he smiled as he bent down and stroked, then picked up his Lady Jezebel.
Hovis hurriedly attached the plaited leather strap to her superbly balanced figure and slung it over his head and tightened the strings.
A quick rendition, of the Bass lines in Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole lotta love,’ which had always been his warm up, sort of followed but there was something very wrong this time, he was left plucking at invisible strings.
“Bollocks,” he cursed, as he attempted to both play and shift himself within Jezebel’s Cobra like grip. The body of his guitar, was strangely sitting just under his chin. Considering just how ludicrous this must have looked, he began to smile pitiably.
“This must be what it’s like, being a fat guy trying to find his dick in the dark,” muttered Hovis, under his breath, as he carried on attempting to extricate himself from Jezebel’s stifling embrace. Good intentions were one thing but the years had mitigated against such actions. After a prolonged struggle he managed to undo the strap and extended it so Jezebel sat comfortably at pelvic level.
“That’s better, eh Cheech?” He looked across to the Setter who just gave him a dirty look and closed his eyes. “Bah! You’re no help…now where’s that amp?” Hovis paused, then headed to the spare bedroom wardrobe. “Yes! You beauty, come to daddy…..”