Jasper returns home late one night after playing a show with his band only to find hIs apartment suddenly haunted by none other than the legendary Jimi Hendrix. Unfortunately, the new ghostly companion doesn't make the best roommate..
Jasper Ludwig stumbled home around 3 am. As usual, he had to give the dented metal door to his apartment a hard shove with his shoulder to open it. It squeaked loudly on its hinges and Mrs. Burkowsi next door instantly beat on the wall to grouchily demand silence. Although, her TV was blaring through the paper thin walls. Did that old hag ever sleep?
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Jasper stumbled walking in the door over a stack of old advertisers and his work boots, on the floor just inside the door. He was sticky with sweat and still felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins from his band's gig at the local dive bar. The Dirty Riffs had put on a show of "alright" caliber, just like they did three nights a week. The last set had been a bit rough, since the rhythm guitarist drank too much and fell off the stage, but the crowd loved it. Jasper felt like he was on top of the world at that moment. That is until he saw him. A figure was standing in the middle of his living room, shrouded in darkness.
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"Who the heck are you?" Jasper demanded, his hand searching for something, anything, he could use as a weapon.
The figure stepped forward into the light, and Jasper's jaw dropped. It was Jimi Hendrix. The legendary guitarist and singer, dead for over fifty years, was standing in his apartment.
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Jasper couldn't believe it. He had been a huge Hendrix fan for years, even modeling his guitar playing after him. This was a dream come true.
The rocker stood dead center of Jasper's messy living room. He was slightly translucent and surrounded in a glimmering purple haze. He was not as tall as Jasper had always imagined, even though his feet hovered off the floor and he drifted in mid air. On the wall behind Jimi was a giant poster of Jimi, and Jasper suddenly felt infinitely happy he'd chosen that particular decor.
