Breaking A String: A Humorous Poem With No Rhyming Scheme

Most of us everyday guitarists don’t have the ability to bring a “backup guitar” to a performance. So unless your name is Stevie Ray Vaughan, you probably don’t have the life do be able to do something like this:

If you’re a guitar player, I’m sure you’re feeling jealous for a couple of reasons. You’re jealous of Stevie’s skills. But you’re also jealous that Stevie has a guitar tech that can come over and adorn him with another guitar AND help him switch and adjust his guitar strap like a bridesmaid fixing a bunched train on a flowing wedding gown.

Maybe the strap is more like the veil for a wedding gown instead of the train…

Or maybe that’s his “something old” he got from a beloved family member…

I digress…breaking a string is awful when you don’t have a second guitar with you…

It’s like talking with your boss who not only has insane coffee breath but is also a close talker.

It’s like swimming past someone in a pool and noticing the water felt suspiciously warmer near that person.

It’s like stepping on a piece of gum and then stepping in some dog poo and then stepping in a cold, dirty puddle and then realizing there’s a rock in your shoe and then stubbing your toe and then stepping on an old band-aid and then mysteriously tripping over the ground even though you notice upon looking back at that part of the ground that there wasn’t any protrusion in the ground to trip over….

…..all while wearing Crocs.

It’s like getting eight of those zigzag-shaped pieces in Tetris when you all you needed was one of those long, straight pieces.

It’s like learning the hard way that you should have gotten toilet paper the last time you went to the grocery store.

It’s like owning a cat*

It’s like going to Chick-Fil-A on a Sunday.

It’s like deliberating over a long and important text message, finishing it after like twenty minutes of typing and editing, only to get the response “K”.

It’s like this….

It’s worse than hitting every red light….it’s more like slowing down at a bunch of red lights only to have the light turn green just before you make a complete stop.

It’s like being at someone’s house and they’re like “I’ve got a ton of cookies I’m not gonna eat, wanna take some home?” You oblige. Take them home. Open the container. Find out they’re that oatmeal raisin crap.

It’s like voting for Bernie Sanders.


*You enjoy unnecessary jabs at cats? Then my previous humorous poem is for you!