Jack Wilder's House

[DMOverlord]

In the friendly neighborhood of September Ridge lies the resedence of Jack Wilder. It's nothing special on the outside... or the inside for that matter. It is small, but has two stories and a wing for the garage, whose door is broken. In the garage lies a 2007 Ford Mustang, which brings light to the house. It has a basic security alarm, which is more than enough to protect the low-value items inside. The one thing he holds especially with pride is his Gibson Les Paul and a Mashall Half-Stack.

[Jack Wilder]

I was having the time of my life. Sitting on my practice stool and playing Eric Clapton on my Les Paul. What could get better?

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and flipped it open.

"Hey, what's up?" It was my band manager, Steve.

"Dude, we got a gig! We got a gig!" He was practically incoherent.

"Slow down, dude, when?"

"Tonight, the coffee house, all night, you guys! It'll be AWESOME!"

"When should I be there?" I asked eagerly.

"You start at eight. Get there as soon as you can!" he told me.

I had to ask. "How are you getting the gear there?"

"I'm bringing Optimus!"

I slammed the phone shut, flipped my guitar into the case, and held my hand towards a bottle of root beer. It flew into my open palm. I sprinted out the door, pausing only to grab my jacket. In the garage sat my jet-black Mustang GT.

I held my hand out to the door. It opened just in time for me to slip into the front seat and toss my guitar in the back. I revved the engine, and sped towards the coffee house.