Strap pushing down on his shoulders, Johnny strummed his air-guitar in front of the mirror with his legs spread wide and one knee kicking to the beat, the other stretched straight. He was wearing his favorite crushed brown leather jacket; one his father would wear on most nights. It was years away from fitting Johnny. He would contort his fingers into perfect chords, and hum his progressions with immaculate timing while grilled chicken and baked potatoes wafted into the room from downstairs where his mother was preparing a meal. Jumping, sneakers pounding down on the hardwood floor with a crash crash crash, Johnny riffed. From downstairs his mother called, “Johnny, be good!”
[Buy Chuck Berry Is On Top.]
Haha… is that true??