Sundays are for the boys

It's Sunday afternoon at Ruck's apartment. There's a mostly eaten Domino's pizza on the coffee table along with a few half-empty beer cans. Ruck is sitting in a recliner with his guitar. A couple of his buddies are sitting on the couch next to him watching the game. There's a pause in the action as the TV heads to commercial break and Ruck turns his focus to his guitar and starts to strum and sing.

Ruck: You and me...we come from different worlds...you like to..

Ruck plays a wrong chord.

Ruck: Damnit.

He starts playing again.

Ruck: We come from different worlds...you like to...

He plays a wrong chord again.

Ruck: Fuck!

Buddy #1: No offense, Ruck. But for as much time as you spend playing that thing you'd think you'd be at least halfway decent at it.

Ruck: I am good at guitar. Hootie and the Blowfish just wrote complicated music.

Buddy #2: You need to get a new hobby, man.

Ruck: Nah, I'm good.

Ruck thinks to himself, oh I got a new hobby alright. If only these bastards knew the trouble I'm about to get myself into.

At that moment the commercial break ends and the game comes back on. Ruck sets his guitar down and smiles thinking about the next Calling.