Turn It Up

The disc tray finally swallowed that shiny album, and the speakers started humming like a pissed-off hornet. I wanted noise, real loud noise to shake the dust out of this joint, not a timid whisper. I clambered up the side of a stack of DVD cases and reached for the big knurled volume dial on the receiver. The metal was cold and stiff as a rusty tap handle. I threw both my plastic hands onto the ridges, digging my heels into the shelf, and heaved clockwise with every ounce of grit I had. A sudden blast of fuzzy electric guitar slammed out and knocked me clean onto my backside.