Death has a Shadow

First, I'd just like to say that the name of this post is meaningless. I wanted to make it sound like an old radio drama, because of how dramatic it is.
Now that that's out of the way, let me get on with my story. It's a tale of drama, suspense, and involves the protagonist being tortured unmercifully. In order to tell this story, you'll need some background info. I can't abide country music. Way back in those days of elementary school, I loved it, but I was weird back then. Heck, I went around asking for DNA samples. Ever since I first heard that darn Rock 'N' Roll music, however, I've been a totally different person. Now all country music sounds the same, and crappy. We get it, you're a dumb hick. You don't have to release an entire album of songs telling us that.
Anyway, this story involves me being forced to listen to country music. As I went to the shooting range with my grandpa like I do every week, he decided to turn on the radio to our local country music station. It's a half-hour to the range, and normally on the way there I like to take a quick nap. But not today. Nope, I had to listen to songs about how the singer is proud to be a redneck, and how much they like to drink. About half way there, I started to go numb in the head. The best possible explanation was the country music was killing me, and I had no way of turning it off. Why???
The first half of the tale ends quite undramatically, because we got to the range shortly before my soul left it's earthly tethers and went on to greener pastures where there was hopefully no country music playing. However, the second half of my story began five hours later.
After we finished shooting, we hopped back into the car to head home. On the way home, he usually talks about how we each shot, and gives pointers on how to improve my shooting. He did the same as usual tonight, except for one thing: he left the music on. Now a mini battle is going on in my head between his useful advice and the dying banshees on the radio. He won, but I had to focus all of my energy not to get distracted by the radio.
Once again it ends lamely, because I got home and put on the Violent Femmes to clean the music out of my system. However, I will carry the scars of hearing that music for the rest of my life. Please, feel free to send money for my rehabilitation. Your donations will help me buy more Rock CD's, and keep the country far away from me.