That Lying Motherfucker

Back in my first college creative writing class, there was this dude named Michael something. He was a little older than the rest of the class. I'd say late 20s or so.

I remember enjoying his short stories. he was a decent writer. And then out of the blue, he turned in this outstanding short story about a session guitarist who gets called in the middle of the night to come down to a recording studio and lay down some tracks. Seems the band had some trouble with the real guitarist, possibly booting him out, and they needed someone to come in an finish the album. Dude played the solos of his life, was high as a kite on the possibility of making it as a guitarist when, of course, they took back the original guitarist.

The dream died. The dude went back home, dreams smashed.

Sounds good, eh?

It should. It was a fucking movie the year before. Dammit, I wish i'd had the fucking internet. I mean, sure, he had to retype the whole thing, but the tale was not his to tell nor to give. Fucking asshat plagarized the whole thing.

Just kinda pisses me off.