Unexpected Visitor

Give Peter your heart, and he'll throw it in his fire pit and watch it burn to ash. Give Peter your soul and he'll sell it to the devil himself for a bit of gold. Give Peter everything and he'll use it once and toss it aside for a later time that he needs it. He's got nothing and he'll gladly give it all to you if you ask for it. The only way to make it to Peter is through music "a sweet melody, and some heart felt lyrics, none of that techno bullshit" he'd had enough of the artificial sounds. He wants real people, with real instruments and real voices, that sing what they really think and feel. "Here's a song I wrote for you," he cleared his throat, made a funny motorboat sound with his lips and began "I don't give a shit about you, I'll spit on your momma, you give me liberty, I'm a piece of shit, I'm low down and gritty, smooth and soft to the touch, but oh so smelly, give me a wiff, I'll make you feel like jelly, but no one can stand it, so fuck you, don't touch me." He ended with a low tone, he really didn't put much thought to it, the crickets chirped, the theatre was silent, nobody was there... He clapped like a king at his own verse,"Bravo! Bravo!" A voice called from down the aisle.