"Fuck.
Fuck fuck.
Fuckfuckfuck." He lay on the couch, socked feet dangling over the backrest.
"What's wrong? I thought that last bit was pretty good," she said to his feet.
"You're right. It was real good. Great actually. Just one problem. Listen. I'll play it faster this time."
"Oooh. That's good."
"Yeah. It's The Beatles."
"Well you know what they say. Great minds."
"In the business they say plagiarism. I doubt Paul or Ringo would appreciate it much. What the fuck was I thinking? I can't do this."
"Don't be so negative. You'll figure something out. I believe in you."
"Really?"
"I think so, yes."
"Well you know what I think? I think you're, how would Ringo say it? Mental."
"Fuck you then."
"If you insist."
