Where bad choices make good stories
My nephew plays damn good blues. He played blues with an old black man in Frisco named Catfish Cortney. He was pretty popular there back in the eighties. He cut an album and my very white nephew played a lot of lead on it. Rythum in all the other songs. Anyway the nephew went to see Stevie Ray. He bout worshiped the guy. After the concert he went to Stevies trailer. Bunch of fans near the door. Nephew stood back, didn't want to insult the man. Stevie emerged and all these idiots screaming. Stevie looked over them and saw my nephew standing alone. Stevie walked through the crowd to my nephew and gave him a hug and said thanks man. Manager tugging on Stevies arm, come on Stevie we got to go. Stevie got in a car and left. A month later Stevie was dead.
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