Wednesday, October 28, 2009

For a friend.

So the final chapters of my childhood are finally coming to a close. I'm 20 years old now yes, but I'm still living like I was ten, with a few more responsibilities. The court that I live on is the symbol of my childhood, everything happened here. There are marks on the pavement on the court that will always be there, there are memories that still float around in the air every day. One major contributor to all of the amazing stories that went on here was a kid named Jp.

I remember the days him and his family moved into the court. I was outside racing my bat mobile down the slope of my driveway and a kid rides up to me on a bike with training wheels. He looks up at me (I was always the tallest) and says “Do you remember me, Jp?" I replied. "uhhh, no".

He then continued to ride his bike around the sidewalk of the court and I continued playing with my bat- mobile.

Soon after though he started to come over almost every day. We'd draw and write stories. We had a comic book entitled "Hot head and Stupid", I was the writer and he was the illustrator. Our friendship built off of our stupid ideas and odd humor. For a while like any great friendship, I hated the guy’s guts. Maybe not all friendships but hey, after 15 years you’re bound to have some ups and downs.

It all started when playing a game called "cherry wars". The concept is very much like its title. We both have  inedible bitter cherry trees in our front yards. We would climb up the trees and pick the cherries from probably about 25 feet up. We would have teams. Usually three on three. The game consisted of running around and chucking cherries at one another. Needless to say, things got pretty heated. Jp was the one who took it over the top. He proceeded to spit all over his cherries. The first lugi filled cherry he threw smacked me right in the forehead. I smelled it. Jp never had the best breath. His saliva plus my rage made it worse. It was all kind of a blur after that. Jp got involved with his friends at st. mary's. I didn't see him for about two years...

Then one day he came over again and had some wild, over exaggerated stories as well. He made those two years of his life sound like the most outrageous best times of his life. (Remember the one about the girl that semi had sex with you in her steps dads’ pool during lunch time at school then the dad came home and you hopped the fence naked and ran down the street with a boner? AND then she caught up with you down the street and finished you off in the car? AND then when I asked about her later on you told me she moved to England?)

Oh Jp, your stories made my life seem like monotonous teen age hell-hole.

Unfortunately I later found out that these stories were indeed completely made up. You see, he only told me these stories to make up for the friendships that he was lacking. To fill a void. These guys weren’t his real friends. It was us. I'm glad was able to admit these things.

Jp was the first guy in our friendship circle to really do anything with his life. He moved out first, he became a fire-fighter, he's been fired more times than I've had jobs, he got hitched, had a wedding (I was best man!)

He always said that he was like Kramer, and I was like Jerry, a dysfunctional friendship but never the less a friendship indeed. So good luck in the United States Coast Guard my friend. I wish you the best of luck and come back with some crazy stories for me.

---I'll end this with a song that Jp and I wrote and recorded when we were about 11 years old.

Jp- "There’s an orange on hammer lane"
When I come home
I always gotta use the restroom
What’s wrong with me?
I always gotta pee.

Every night I sit on the toilet with you
Now I gotta poo.
What’s wrong with me?
I made a mess in the bathroom just for you mommy
And now I gotta take a poo
And I did it just for you
(I did it just for you)
I did it just for you

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