I rushed back to the house and went into the studio to get my Blues King out of the closet, and sat on the stool next to the good microphone hung near...the control booth. I set the equipment in the booth, then played and sang a few bars as I adjusted the sound levels for the lower mic to pick up the guitar and for if the level of my voice.I checked the sound quality in the booth and set the controller to 'record', not 'sample'.Back in the studio, I unfolded the piece of paper I carried with me. "How about we bet on it?" I challenged. I was too young to carry it off well, but youth has its own reserve of arrogance."A bet? Isn't that a bit childish?" she asked with just the barest hint of anger."I have to prove I know I'm right," I replied. She folded her arms below her breasts and gave me an angry look."I'm a fourteen-year old boy, and you're a thirty-year old woman. There's no way you're going to listen; you're already convinced I can't know better. I'm too young, right?"She studied. More

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