I have been reading about the Events in Boston today, and am worn out. My heart goes out to the families involved. Stay safe and hug your loved ones. My guys will be getting extra snuggles tonight. Since I can’t imagine coming up with a coherent Grammar lesson, I thought I would try something different and post the first page of Ruby and the Killer Amp. If you all like it, I’ll post a page a day until the chapter is done. I’m wondering what people will think, and if there will be any interest. Any feedback would be great. And here we go. FYI, all text belongs to me.

Chapter 1-Ruby and the Killer Amp

As soon as I woke up, I knew that my day had started wrong. I woke before it was fully light outside; my insomnia had kicked in again. I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock.

Oh man, is that really the time? I thought.

My vision was slightly blurry, and I could feel the hangover starting from the night before. I had consumed too many PBRs and cheap whisky shots. I would have to give Sven hell for not cutting me off. Not that he was my keeper or anything, but wow. I felt terrible.

It was early, not even six am. What had woken me up? I wondered.

It was probably nothing more than house sounds. I had been living in this house for six months now, and I still wasn’t used to its creaks and groans. It was a beautiful, old, craftsman style house, but it was noisy. I was betting that my housemates would still be sleeping. None of us worked until after ten, we all liked it that way. Eva and Corey were both on the closing shift at the coffee shop; and I worked with Blake and Evan at Slate’s Guitars, we didn’t have to be in until eleven thirty. That is, when I made it in on time.

“Ugg . . . need coffee.” I said aloud.

Even though I was running on three or so hours of sleep, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to bed. Sleeplessness was a curse I had learned to live with. I might as well get up and enjoy the morning. A shower would be the first order of business. Maybe that would clear some of the cobwebs from my head. Then some toast, my stomach was a little wobbly. Suddenly, the urge to get out of bed overwhelmed me. I had never been good at staying still, and that problem seemed worse late at night and early in the morning. I hated waking up early.

I stretched and heaved off my covers. I took one last lingering look at my bed, wishing I could fall back to sleep. At least my room was nice and tidy. The early morning light caught the clean lines of my bookcases and poorly matched, but well taken care of, bed set. I looked out my window; amazingly, there were no clouds in the sky. Sunshine was a rare occurrence for Portland in November. I loved how the light shined through the bare trees and bounced off the frost still clinging to the shadows. The view was making the morning a little more bearable.