The distinctive riff of Deep Purple's “Smoke on the Water” sounded loudly, singly, in the confined space of the garage. Kim stared in surprise as deft fingers shifted on steel strings, nimbly changing abruptly to the equally singular riff of Jimi Hendrix” “Foxy Lady”. A deep blush stained pale cheeks as Kim recognized the leer on her serenader's face as the slim fingers danced over the frets.
The last note died a slow death, the vibration of the steel strings refusing to still without a fight. Kim shook her head, stupefied.
“When did you learn that?”
Shego shrugged. “Family band. Hego's first big idea for us to use as a cover. Unfortunately, since I and the Wego twins were the only ones with actual musical talent, and Mego was the only proper front man, that meant Hego had to not be on stage…and he did NOT like that.” She gently replaced the guitar on it's stand, arranging the strap to fall behind the body.
“Wait, Mego? Front man?”
“Can you imagine anyone else willing to screech and prance about in painted on pants?”
“…Ew. But valid point.”
“Yep. Thankfully, we quit before Hego realized Mego would make a perfect Axl Rose clone.”
“Somehow, I have problems imagining you as Slash.”
Shego grinned. “I have a top hat around here somewhere if you want to play dress up.”
- end -