At this party, there’s a guitar in the corner, hanging out, talking with an unlit cigarette hanging out of its mouth; occasionally it turns around to comment on a man’s sad monologue. This guitar is clearly kind of a jerk, but in a way that’s entertaining—like the fans at sporting events that heckle the living shit out of players, but do so with a modicum of wit, taking a little pride in the performance. The man’s monologue is also intriguing, but you keep getting distracted by that guitar—there’s just something about it.[BUY Night Fiction]