Guitar Guy would stand outside in the college campus courtyard, strumming the same chord for eight minutes while singing painfully off-key. Supposedly, he was practicing to woo the lady of his dreams.
Unbeknownst to him, Athena Rosalind Daly had already overheard him. In fact, the entire building could hear him. But Athena Rosalind had it the worst, as she was cursed with perfect pitch. She had been less than impressed.
He strummed incessant quarter notes on an A major chord that was about forty cents flat. Without changing the tuning or tempo, he made up the lyrics as he went. His voice occasionally cracked.
The buildings seemed to recoil.