I walked into the secondhand store with a mean look in my eye.
I wanted a guitar.
Not just any guitar, mind you. Something black. Something that didn't suck. Something that I could afford. Something...
I looked up at the guitar wall of the store and nearly spit my lunch through my nose.
I could dream, but no dream could be so real.
I had found it.

A Big, Black, B.C. Rich Ironbird

I quite literally grabbed a nearby salesperson and told him I wanted it. I also pointed at an amp. I don't think I even looked at the amp. I certainly didn't notice the "I'm a big skater" stickers on the back. I also motioned for a cable.
And then I bought it. With cash.

As soon as all my metalhead friends (including Jay, Brent, Kevin and Colin) found out I had a B.C. Rich, they experienced varying degrees of envy:
Jay: "B.C. Rich? That's a pretty hard-ass metal guitar!"
Brent: "Wow."
Colin: "You got a B.C. Rich? Nice."
Kevin: "I played a goddamn acoustic for seven years, my grandparents finally buy me a Peavey, which doesn't even tune properly, and you get a B.C. Rich!"

My ex-girlfriends can be easily judged by their reactions to my guitar:
Crystal: "Cool! Can you play anything? Can I touch it?"
Fran: "I hate you for playing guitar better than I do." "That ugly thing?"

Love me, love my guitar

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