Somewhere In Mississippi
It was in the dark of night when our buyer approached that crossroads with nothing but a purchase order and a dream. He was going to teach the world to rock!
There, beside a few rocks, waited a man. A man in a perfect suit and a well-trimmed beard, with a sinister smile on his face. Behind him, a skid or two of wooden guitars.
And across the street, a chubby guy with hippie hair clapping his hands together.
"Sorry," said the man in the suit. "That's my little brother. He's a folk singer. My mom made me bring him along."
"THIS IS SO! COOL!" yelled the volcano god. "ARE WE GOING TO SING KUMBAYA NOW?"
The man in the suit rolled his eyes.
"Dude, calm it down!" he yelled at his brother. "I'm trying to set a mood! You know, dark? Cruel? A dangerous sort of fellow?"
"MY BAD, BRO!" the folk singer called back. "I'LL BE OVER HERE!"
The man in the suit turned to our buyer.
"Now, my friend. I believe we have... business? In exchange for my guitars, from you I request an immortal-"
"HEY DID YOU ASK HIM ABOUT BUYING MY FOLK GUITARS?"
The man in the suit covered his eyes, as though in shame. "Folk guitars aren't cool, man."
"WHAT?" yelled the volcano god. "THEY ARE SO COOL! MOM SAYS THEY'RE COOL!"
The man in the suit kicked the dust with his expensive leather shoe. "Not now, man. I'm trying to finish a business deal."
"I'LL TELL MOM! I'LL TELL HER YOU WOULDN'T LET ME BE YOUR PARTNER!"
The man in the suit sighed, and looked our buyer in the eye sheepishly.
"So, I know we had a deal, but... I can't believe I'm saying this... what if I throw in a few fol-"
"NO, NOT THROW IN! HE HAS TO PAY FOR THEM! FULL PRICE! OR I'M TELLING MOM!"
The man in the suit sighed again.
"Okay. Okay, fine! You want to negotiate this deal? Come over here! Make it happen! It's all yours! I'm leaving!"
With a small poof of brimstone, the man in the suit vanished, leaving a very excited hippie pulling a truckload of folk guitars towards our buyer.
"OH, BOY! MY FIRST SALE! I'M SO HAPPY! I'M GOING TO MAKE SO MUCH MONEY! I MIGHT JUST STAY HERE FOREVER! MY BROTHER WILL BE SO PROUD!"
And that, dear readers, is the story of how we got guitars AND folk guitars here today.