Guitar Causes Bacon Fingers

The unwrapped guitar glowed with the burnished gloom of a thousand sad songs. "If you like this guitar, my Aunt Jane says she's got a banjo that was made by monkeys." I asked, "Can I pick it up?" I noticed he avoided touching it. I also ignored the banjo remark. "I don't touch it," he answered. "My Uncle Paul brought it back from Indonesia. That's over by China and Cuba and what not." "Did he buy it there?" I wanted to pick it up. "Can I pick it up?" He said, "I don't pick it up." "Why not?" I asked. He said, "I told you it's made of witch wood, didn't I? I don't mess with stuff made of witch wood." I resisted my natural sarcastic gifts. I did not ask how often things made of witch wood had shown up in his life. Obviously it was often enough to have taught him a lesson. "Wally Ostrander come over one time and played an old Surfari's song on this very guitar. I think it was Pipeline. Anyhoo, his fingers twisted up like fried bacon and he pissed himself." I stared at him. "Well, it's a difficult song to play correctly." He didn't laugh. "I don't touch it," he said again. He was not amused.

Do any of you believe in haunted guitars? Witch wood? Do you think I should risk picking up the guitar?