User:Penguinpuffdude/Curse of the Three-Stringed Guitar

The Curse of the Three-Stringed Guitar, also known as the Curse of Kenneth or Foe's Folly, was an unfortunate event in the live of Puffish musician Foe Stummer. Perhaps it was not unfortunate for him career-wise, but it was unfortunate for his image.

His folly, and the nature of the curse?

Gentle reader, read on to find out...

Prologue: For Those in Need of a Recap
Reader, do you know much about the life of Foe Stummer, before the incident?

If yes, please go to Chapter 1.

If not, read on.

Foe Stummer hatched on May 27th, 1961 as Simon Smith, to Cecilia and Jamie Smith. He had a brother, Jack, and two sisters, Vitalie and Helen. They lived in an igloo which looked small from the outside, but was actually quite spacious. They had a working refrigerator, television, and all the family members knew what to do in an earthquake.

In short, they were a perfectly normal family.

...or were they?

This family, in fact, hated almost all of modern popular music - rock-and-roll even, and especially. Indeed, their motto was "We Hate Rock-and-Roll!"...and they really meant it. The only music they tolerated were the more sentimental of pop music, gramophone music from the 1920s and 30s, and it would be even better if it was classical.

None of their acquaintances liked rock-and-roll. The chicks were homeschooled to protect them from bad rock-and-rollish influences. The television was switched off whenever a rock-and-roll film appeared. Any rock-and-roller caught socializing with the chicks were slapped on the spot, and Simon and his siblings given an hour's homework of mathematics. What friends they were allowed to have were usually either their cousins, or some carefully hand-selected chicks from the local classical music school. And, last but not least, they were told to despise rock-and-roll more or less everyday.

And so he lived, in peaceful anti-rock-and-roll activism, until that fateful day, his birthday in 1977.

Chapter 1: Down in the Basement
May 27th, 1977.

It was Simon Smith's birthday, and he was now sixteen.

May 27th, 1977.

That fateful day, of which poor Simon Smith would regret up to this very day.

May 27th, 1977.

It was a wonderful birthday he had, the last great birthday he ever had, indeed. His good friend Philip Butler had come, and so had Janet Farrar and Ralph Butterworth and all his other anti-rock-and-roll friends; his parents had bought four tons of supplies and had actually planned to go out for the day, so he, his siblings and his friends could party by themselves all day.

Whatever mess they would make during the chaos would be tolerated, assured his mother, as they stood at the gate before she stepped into the car. His father patted him on the back, and handed him an anti-rock-and-roll magazine.

"Everything will go perfectly fine!" said Cecilia Smith to her husband, as they sped to the local (classical) music hall.

Unfortunately, things didn't go too well for them; they got car trouble halfway to their destination, the music wasn't to their taste, and their dinner was awful, but as far as they were concerned, everything back home did go as they expected.

The cushions were almost empty from violent pillow-fights; the kitchen had been devastated by an army of hungry chicks; and some of the gang were actually sulking because they were continuously being beaten in games of poker, and whist, and patience, and suchlike antique games before the days of Super Smash Mates. At a certain point, much to everybody's delight, one of the chicks even whipped out their tape recording of a mysterious song called "Different Story", written and sung by humans, which was about opposition to rock-and-roll. It was eventually played ten times in a row.

That is, things were going well...

...until one of the juveniles, a certain Walter-Mozart Noel, suggested that they all descend to the basement.

"Yes! Let's do it!" said Simon and Philip excitedly.

Not all were as enthusiastic as the two friends, however; some of them politely declined the offer in lieu of another game of whist, on the pathetic excuse that there was something down there.

"Of course there's stuff down there!" retorted Simon; "I know because I've been there countless times. It's a wonderful place. Well, have fun with your card games! We explorers are going to see what else is in there!"

"Seconded!" said Philip.

Eventually, after some more cowering, vows, and brave statements made in pretense, the legal owner of the basement and his six companions - Philip, Benjamin, Samuel, Ernest, George and Maurice (minus Walter-Mozart Noel) - finally decided to descend the mysterious staircase.

What a treasure trove that basement was! Reader, you will only be able to imagine this basement with great difficulty; though the house did look small, the basement was shockingly almost like a cave. Artifacts were everywhere; it was almost like a museum, and it would be perfectly possible for some newcomer to lose one's way in there.

"I'm regretting having come down here..." said timid Ernest when nobody was listening.

"Look at this wonderful hat in this dusty corner! Isn't it very Mod?" said fashion-conscious but occasionally dictatorial Benjamin.

"Seconded! Doesn't it go well with my scarf?" said his brother, George.

"Verily, this is a wondrous place indeed," said poetic pseudo-Elizabethan Maurice.

"I'd hate to get stuck here," said down-to-earth Samuel.

"C'mon guys - let's explore this place from top to bottom!" said Philip. And so they went.

They quietly went about their own ways, when suddenly, rock-and-roll music blared from a corner of the room. Shocked, the gang tracked down where it came from within seconds, and caught some random chick (named John) from the party guiltlessly swaying to a (badly-copied) Elvis tune.

"What??? You brought that record here, didn't you?!?" screamed Simon.

"Go! Now!!!" shrieked Benjamin.

"Hi, man! Listen to this! Hey, I like your clothes!" said John.

"You never listen to a-" began the furious born dictator; he was cut off by Philip however, who said, in a grave voice, that he would be beaten up if he didn't switch off that gramophone and left the igloo.

John obeyed; as he slouched off, he convinced Ernest, Walter-Mozart Noel and a few of the others that rock-and-roll was cool, too, much to the chagrin of Simon et al. Therefore, to this day, John doesn't regret his action.

As for Simon, he regrets having had invited Walter-Mozart to the party, and his friends (who frankly found him somewhat irritating) regret not having kicked him out the igloo earlier.

Trivia

 * He still hates rock-and-roll with a passion; it's just that nobody really believes him.