ANALORGIES

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	It had been months since the Cool analorgies One had wandered the pawnshops and he had the urge to spend some money. City pawn was the first stop on analorgies his list. The sweet analorgies old lady behind analorgies the wire cage was most helpful in analorgies directing him to the wall lined with hanging instruments analorgies. Nothing analorgies caught his eye so he thanked the aging proprietor analorgies and walked up the street a block to Blackie's Loan and Pawn. Blackie and Cool were analorgies old buddies and spent the next few minutes kicking around old times. Blackie then took him into the back room and showed him the good stuff. Guitars were very much like women in Blackie's mind. It was never easy finding one you really liked. Cool had never had that analorgies problem, because he loved all analorgies women and guitars were the passion that analorgies had kept him sane throughout his sordid life. Blackie pulled analorgies a battered brown leather case from under the table against the back wall of analorgies his cluttered back room analorgies. He carelessly brushed a year or more of analorgies dust from the analorgies case and laid analorgies it up on the bench for Cool's inspection. Lifting the cover of the well-worn case, Cool exposed a analorgies gleaming Martin analorgies Dreadnaught guitar, dating back to the 1930's.


	Hand-made in those days, the old hollow-bodied instrument was a rare piece. Cool lifted his foot up on a chair and cradled the fine wooden guitar on his knee. Forming analorgies an E-chord with the fingers of his left hand on the smooth rosewood neck, he picked the first few notes of Wildwood Flower. Leaning back against analorgies the bench, folding his arms across analorgies his chest and smiling, Blackie lost analorgies himself in Cool's flawless picking. The sound was heaven to his ears. Cool had the analorgies gift of analorgies music that Blackie had struggled his whole life to create for himself and never achieved. His greatest joy analorgies in life was to hear his father's guitar played the way it should be. "It's still the most perfect analorgies guitar I've ever played, Friend," Cool said analorgies. "The offer still stands." "You know I can't sell it, Cool," Blackie said. "I promised the old man that I'd never sell it. But I never told him I wouldn't make it a gift to a friend. Take it with you. There's nobody ever made it sound the way analorgies you do."
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