My Friend Shawn Sucks

Shawn started playing guitar a few years back, and he sucked. Fans quickly jumped on the bandwagon and a sensation was born.
On his painful journey to the middle, Shawn’s deliberately talentless style and awkward grin will win their way into your pity, and your heart. Happy to play for the disdain of his fans, a simple dream is all that guides him. And that dream goes a little something like this:
“Hey,” says Shawn.
“Yeah?” replies a really attractive yet interesting and strangely friendly girl.
Shawn pauses, and places his hand on his chin, his other hand in his jeans pocket.
“Does your friend Shawn really suck?”
“What?” She looks down. At her boobs. Where the writing is. On her t-shirt. The writing I mean, not her boobs, cuz that'd be weird.“Oh that. Yeah, my friend heard him at a coffee house, I've actually never heard of him, but she said he’s pretty crap. It’s my laundry day and this is the only clean shirt I’ve got.”
“He sounds like a really good-looking, super rad guy.”
A long pause.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you retarded?”
She saunters off into the setting sun, her silhouetted form blurring through the tears that are pooling at the corners of Shawn’s eyes. He smiles and lets the tears and snot run down his face and he weeps until his mom comes to pick him up.
That’s why he plays--so his mom will pick him up and feel bad that he’s crying and buy him ice cream. He loves ice cream.