My name is Jake and I’m 45 years old. I write jingles for an advertising agency, but I never actually got to fulfill my dream of becoming an author. This is my recollection of the most memorable summer of my life. I’m sure that all of my friends would describe it differently than I would, but if they want to write about it, they’re more than welcomed to do so.

6-13-99

My New Outlook

It was the last weekend of my 9th grade year. I woke up early, but I stayed in bed for about 3 hours, just feeling the relief from an impending conclusion of my first year of high school education. Even though I still had one last week to get out of my way, I still got that "back in the day" feeling as I thought back about all of the interesting teachers.

There was Mr. Cheney, My American government teacher. Mr. Cheney would teach us a multitude of "rules of life". He would often go off on a rant about "bureaucratic America" and how the government is actually conspiring to take away our freedoms. I lied in bed with the sound of his voice echoing in my head. "You think voting is a way to make the government listen. No No No...throwing a brick through the window of the Pentagon will make the government listen. That's where the 26th Amendment came from."

Being quite interested in governmental affairs, I was intrigued by Mr. Cheney's long-winded lectures, from paraphrasing the Power Elite and A People's History of the United States to making sure we all knew who really killed JFK. A few years after I graduated, Mr. Cheney died in an accident involving Napalm and our Local Congressman's house. Oh, what a sweet old man he was.

Then there were the two science teachers: Mrs. Hefferson and Mrs. Mihalick. Ed, my best friend, would always mix their names up and end up calling both of them Mrs. Hefferlick.

Our math class was instructed by an English Immigrant named Mrs. Chaucer. She didn't quite grasp the concept of dustless chalk and this lack of knowledge often had dire consequences on whatever dark apparel she put on that morning. With white blotches pervading her clothing, books, papers, pens, and desk, it was quite hard to take this woman seriously enough to listen to the advanced mathematical concepts she was trying so diligently to teach us.

Finally, our foreign language teacher was rumored to have been hired only for the school's newest affirmative action program (this rumor was obviously started by a parent, because the average classmate of mine didn't even know how to spell affirmative action.) I was disappointed by the fact that although very proficient in Spanish, Senorita Black didn't yet have a full grasp of the English language, seeing as she seemed to have immigrated about three months before being hired by the language department. After we graduated, some of us received little clay ash trays from the Creedmore Hospital for the Criminally Insane, with a signature from Senorita Black. Yes, it was my class that drove this optimistic, cheerful lady into a frothing psychotic. One day in the middle of April, Senorita Black showed up to class 20 minutes late, and placed her bag on the ground. As she began to write out the class' conjugation assignments, her bag fell on its side and a few garden tools fell out. As she rushed over and carefully scooped them back into her bag, she explained that the red substance on the tools came from her tomato garden. Upon further investigation, the local authorities came to a different conclusion. That was her first and last year at Fisherville High.

These recent memories echoed through my brain as I laid under the warmth of my comforter. But having grown restless and hungry, I headed downstairs for breakfast. After my ritual Thomas' Bagel with Butter, I sauntered back upstairs. I sat down in front of my computer and turned it on. Signing on to AOL, I typed in my screen name and password. Now, most people choose an online identification that thoroughly describes them as much as possible with the allotted 16 letters. Cantdescribeme was the name which I decided to use for my online identification.

I signed on to AOL with my 14.4 K Modem that my father said he found it "real cheap" in the "Electronics Store" (known to most other families as the 99 Cent Store) and heard that quite familiar yet still exciting voice say those three little words: "You've got mail!"

I didn't often sign on to AOL. I had left my mailbox filled with every Chain letter, Porno Ad, and Mortgage offer. Being too tired to sort through all the Spam Email to get to the 2 or 3 important messages, I opted to not check my mail. Suddenly, a little box appeared on the top left of my screen. As any users of AOL might know, this was an instant message, an online version of communication in which someone can instantly, um, message another user. The content of this message was a bit disturbing. In order to maintain my position in the good graces of any parents or those around children, I'll keep this part kosher with words in parenthesis replacing certain socially unacceptable words.

"Hey you (nice) (cool guy). I'm (really) tired of hearing about you and your (nice) group of (nice) friends. Why don't you just stop being a (Good Christian Boy) before I (shake your hand) If I ever see you I'm going to (make you do jumping jacks) and if that doesn't get the job done I'll have my friends come by and (play hopscotch) with you. (Thank) you."

As anyone who could decipher the true words from the passage (via context clues) would realize , I was quite scared. A user named "Redandwhitey" had sent this lovely little greeting to me. Unfortunately, there was no way to know the true identity of the sender. I immediately signed off and decided that it was in my best interest to go back to sleep. I hadn't overslept in a while, and now that I was allowed to, I decided to go all the way. That's right...I was going to sleep past noon.

This may seem like something less than an achievement to most who remember their teenage years, but I was a bit eccentric.

As I went back to sleep I dreamed about meeting that perfect girl. The girl of my dreams that would let me sweep her off her feet. I thought about how unfair it was that all these jerks got the good looking girls and started to get upset. I fell asleep embittered and filled with hatred for the jerks of the world and the girls who let them be that way without consequence.

I slept until the sun went down. I was getting depressed. I thought about everything going on and slipped into a mood. I woke up at dusk and looked outside my bedroom to view the sky crying even harder than I wanted to. The sound of the drops falling added to my sadness as I pondered the meaning of life as if I'd actually reach a conclusion. The "What If's" came up in my mind. "What if this entire world is just one big dream?" I asked myself. "What if everything I do means nothing?" "What if the universe went through cycles in which the world was just one big repetitive life molecule that gets created, spawns the same forms in the exact same pattern, evolving from atoms to humans in the exact same way, all the way up until we discover nuclear weapons and destroy the universe, starting the entire cycle over, and I’ve been destroyed and recreated a million times without my knowledge." On that note, I determined that I wouldn’t eat lucky charms before going to bed anymore.

I thought about how death was inevitable and days like this made me want to seize the day. I wavered between anger, confusion, and misery. I wanted to go outside and make a difference. I thought about the things I was missing. "Everyone else is going here" "Everyone else is doing that" I couldn't stop thinking. I had to much time to think and thought about how I didn't have nearly enough time to think.

I turned away from the window feeling empty inside. I wanted to experience everything and knew it was impossible. It was too late, I was too afraid, stupid, weak, and everything else that I could think about. I was going insane. I looked around for something to smash. My anger turned to violence as I reached for my lamp. I didn't want to see anymore. That light represented everything that had kept me going. It let me see the path that everyone else planned for me. It represented all things intangible that were prolonging this caged existence of mine. So I grabbed it and smashed it to pieces. As I swung the lamp around the room, breaking everything I could see, I thought about the threats from that morning. I thought about friends and family. I thought about my teachers and classmates. I saw that no one was with me . Everyone was against me and I blamed the light. I relied on the light for too long, I thought to myself.

And then the room was dark. I looked around and all I heard was the rain. I looked down and saw shattered glass and broken picture frames. Torn sheets were strewn across my mattress and my window was cracked. I walked outside of my room, waiting for the punishment of my life. But no one was home. I walked across the hall and called my mother's name. No answer. I called my father and received the same response.

The only thing that I heard was the constant pitter-patter of the rain. The rain was my only friend that day. And then I did something that I never thought I'd do before. I walked outside, looked up at the sky, and spread my arms out. I smiled for the first time all day as I let the cold water splash on my cheeks. I fell to the ground as I laughed and rolled around in the mud.

Gone were the worries of an adolescent. Gone were the toils of a person trying to find his bearings in society and his place amongst his peers. The child inside of me was let out to play and I forgot everything. This was the turning point of my life. Although seemingly insignificant, it gave me a new outlook: "Seize the Day". (I changed it to "Carpe Diem" after watching Dead Poet's Society). The rest of that Summer, I expressed myself. I took risks and I decided that each day would be the best day of my life.

6-17-99

Planning Up To 4 pm

My friends and I were unaware of what was set before us by the Summer Gods. I was the typical scrawny pale kid: 5'9 with a crew cut. I listened to punk rock, and went to all of the concerts I could afford on my school-year-salary from the Pizza Shop down the block. I didn't show any special interest for my studies, but I none-the-less managed a decent average.

In my opinion, the season of summer was perfect. I could say goodbye to the daily Fisherville announcements over the PA. There was no more being picked on by the other guys on the football team. No more teachers could yell at me for violating pointless rules or for talking during assembly (because if students enjoy themselves, teachers obviously aren’t doing their jobs). I was too young for my parents to make me get a summer job if I didn't want one, but old enough to entertain myself without being sent off to summer camp unless I became too much trouble I looked forward to 3 months of just goofing off with my friends. I didn't have to work at the pizza place during the summer because Tony, my boss, had his nephew come down from Massachusetts until September. I was free to do whatever I wanted. I mostly hung out with Ed, and we made our rounds throughout the neighborhood everyday.

The night before the last day of school, Ed and I planned out our daily ritual for all Summer days that we would hang out together. Here’s the basic gist:

First, we would visit Zach's house. Zach was the neighborhood's lady's man. He had a car and, in my neighborhood, that meant that girls looked past major physical or personality defects. The part that I enjoyed the most was watching him hide all of his girlfriends from each other. He always made sure that no two females were ever in the same school. He had a small blackboard in his basement with a checklist. He had a list of all these girl's names, phone numbers, schools, and when he would see them. (For example: Samantha, 750-0991, St. Peter's Cathedral High, Tuesdays and Thursdays at 5:00 PM) He was pretty sly about the whole thing, and created rules by which he would always abide so as to avoid being caught. He'd always make sure that there was at least an hour in between each girl's time. Once, I was bored for an entire week and decided that it would be pretty amusing to invite them all to his upcoming birthday party. I guess the blackboard wasn't the best idea after all.

We would hang around all morning until we heard the noise of a bus engine. Gus, our school-year bus driver, drove by Zach's house to bring home the kids who had to attend summer school. Gus would let us on the bus every morning at about 12 pm and would drop us off at the Mall. This was technically against the rules, but in general, if you knew the right people, all of the rules could be broken. Rules only applied in Fisherville if you were around people you didn't know.

Ed and I would cruise through the mall and visit our friend, Annie, who had to work at the ice cream stand. She'd give us each a single scoop and we'd talk with her during her break. The best thing about Annie was that she liked everyone and everyone liked her. No one fought with Annie because she was the most amiable person imaginable. This girl would apologize to the sky because it was raining. Annie's only problem was that she thought she had too many problems. She worked so hard but still thought she was a bad person. She took responsibility for problems that weren't her fault and wouldn't stop until she made things right. We all loved Annie.

After talking to Annie, we would catch a ride home from Alex, Ed's girlfriend's, mom. Mrs. Hutzpah worked at the Bagel Store next to the mall and, in my estimation, was the coolest mother imaginable. She worked two jobs to support Alex and her sister. Yet she was still able to have a sense of humor about her. One day, Alex's mother was yelling at everyone to clean up and I came into the house with Ed. "And you two", she screamed, "Why haven't you done the dishes yet?" Alex, her sister, and her mother all shared a good laugh while Ed and I went right to the sink and started to work, not realizing that she was just kidding.

We would be dropped off at Alex's house at about 1 PM. She lived next to Becky, the girl I was infatuated with, and Ed would hang out with Alex while I watched Becky through her bedroom window. You'd be surprised how stupid girls can be when no one was watching. I once caught Becky dancing around, wearing a wig, and singing along to Britney Spears. If I weren't so deathly afraid of confrontation with the girl, I would have yelled at her for her horrible taste in music; but instead I just watched.

Anyway, we stayed there until Ed and Alex would get into a fight and we'd both storm out of Alex's house and run back to mine. The daily question on my mind wasn’t IF they’d get in a fight, but rather WHEN they would. Alex was a controlling, annoying, self-centered, jealous tigress who preyed on people. But her mom made really good cookies.

I anticipated that our schedule would be pretty much the same thing everyday until about 4 PM.

It may sound (well it wouldn't sound unless you're reading this out-loud) like we lead pretty boring lives, but there was a reason we planned to do the same thing every morning. That Summer, we always needed to recover from the night before. I risked my life at least twice a night. If we didn't make our quota of near-death experiences, we somehow didn't feel satisfied that we had as much fun as we could have had that night. This was all part of my new movement towards greater life-satisfaction. These risks had deep meaning to me and let me prove to myself that I was living to the fullest. Ed came along to see me fall on my face every so often. Man, I loved that kid.

6-18-99

Paintballs and Best friends (First Lesson of the Summer)

The school year was over but I hadn't achieved closure. (Not that I knew what the word "closure" meant at the time, but I knew I hadn't achieved something) I hadn’t talked to Becky.

Becky was no ordinary girl. She had an aura around her that the other girls didn't have. She was always smiling, always hanging out with the football players and laughing. She was a straight 'A' Honors student, captain of the debate team, and on top of that, she was a cheerleader. I played third-string forward on the JV basketball team, second-string kicker for the football team, and right field for the baseball team. I always looked forward to football and basketball seasons more than baseball season, just because the cheerleaders would be at our games. My games mainly involved sitting on the bench and watching her. Watching her liquefied my mind. I imagined that speaking would make me faint, and girls usually hate it when a potential suitor does that.

My friends and I walked out on the last day of school with a freedom that I doubt any of us have felt since then. We walked to the Pizza Place to enjoy the first Pie of the summer. On the way, I was walking backwards telling one of my famous laugh-at-me-so-you-don't-make-me-cry jokes and I felt a huge smack in the back of my head. I grunted and fell to the ground as my friends let out groans and screams similar to mine. I raised my head off the ground to figure out what the calamity was all about. "What the hell was that?" I exclaimed as I felt the back of my head dripping. I thought I was bleeding, but upon further visual perusal, I realized it was dripping paint.

"Get the hell out of our neighborhood, Worms"

"Worms" is what the bullies at our school had called us. They all hung out in a group and their leader was named Pinky. I know this sounds like an unusual name for a bully, but if you want to mock a 6'5"man-boy who had muscles bigger than you're waist, you wait until he’s walked away with your lunch money. Anyone who wished not to lose their dignity (or their vital organs), respectfully refereed to him as "Pinky" or "Mr. Pinky" depending on if he was about to hurt you or not.

Pinky and his gang of delinquents had sprayed us with their paint ball guns, the trademark of the Pistols, the name of their Bully-club. I didn't see them but I discerned Pinky's distinguished laugh from inside an abandoned old shack that he often hid in when the police or his parents came around looking for him.

We got up and ran away, hoping not to get shot anymore. "I'll meet you guys later, I'm going home to try to get this stuff out of my hair," I said bitterly as I drifted towards my house, holding the back of my head. My friends agreed and dispersed.

After a half-hour of shampooing, I got most of the yellow gook out and went to go play basketball in my backyard. When I opened the back-door, Ed was already there with the ball in his hand. "Don't worry about it, Jack, they'll eventually either get arrested or accidentally fall off a cliff", he said.

Ed and I fit each other perfectly. No matter what we disagreed upon, we never fought because we always respected each other's opinions. Anything that possibly erupted into an argument would always be appeased by a joke or someone would just say something absurd like, "So anyway, how are the kids?", and we'd both laugh for a few minutes. We had an understanding that couldn't be explained, only experienced. We were opposites in the places where opposites attract, but still shared the same views on certain things, like what would happen to ass holes who shoot us with paint balls. We shared the common belief in Karma, regardless that he was Catholic and I was often referred to as "Demon Child" by my teachers.

"I know", I replied, "But isn't there any way that they could just stop picking on me until Pinky's probation officer decides that enough is enough." Just for the record, none of the Pistols were ever detained by an officer of the law, but we both talked in hypothetical situations that we wished were true in order to make ourselves feel better. "Whatever, I don't care what they do. Someday, I'll be living the good life and I'll come back here and Pinky will be asking if I want Premium or Unleaded."

"So you really believe this invention of yours is gonna make you rich?"

"I'm telling you man, trackers are gonna be huge." I wanted to invent a little tracker that you could put on everything valuable in your house and the package deal would include main system lodged into the wall. You could press a button on the main system and the tracker would show up on a radar located just above the buttons. It would allow you to easily find whatever you were missing. In 2002, I saw my product-to-be already in the catalog at the Sharper Image. Despite any claims to my friends that I thought of it before Sharper Image did, only Ed believed me because he was the only one I told before the catalogue came in the mail.

"Don't leave it to me to get some sense in that head of yours"

"Whatever man, at least I'll be an inventor. You want to be an artist. What a joke!" Little did I know that Ed would go on to be a millionaire ad designer and made more in a week than I did in a year.

"Hey man, I was just kidding anyway. C'mon jerk face,"(our term of endearment for each other), "I told Alex that we'd be at her house for Manhunt, and you know how Alex hates people to be late AND stupid. You can at least prevent one." We made fun of each other so much that it was like second nature. We loved it but if anyone else said a thing to either of us, the other one would be right there ready to throw some punches both metaphorically and literally.

Alex was Ed's girlfriend since junior high. She was smarter than me, but I had a feeling she'd have a much harder time surviving in the real world. She was "book smart". She could recite scientific theories until she was blue in the face but if you asked her about anything relevant to life, she would become very quiet and cower away with self-doubt. I didn't like her very much, but I avoided any life-altering, ego shattering comments while they were going out like, "You're not perfect", so as not to upset Ed.

When we got to Alex's house we made Manhunt teams. It was Alex, Ed, and me versus Alex's sister and her two friends. We played a modified version of manhunt, where the objective was to get to the stop sign across from the Greek Orthodox Church on Alex's block. Besides having no shrubbery around the stop sign to hide in for about 50 feet, the cars zooming by at speeds of over 60 mph, launching off speed bumps and curbs, gave the game another fun aspect. We had a kitchen timer next to the stop sign that was set for 5 minutes. If you could get to the stop sign before the 5 minutes was up without getting tagged by the team who was on defense, you gain 1 point. If you were tagged, you were brought to the "jail" which consisted of a tree on the Greek Orthodox Church's property. Your team mate could get you out of jail by tagging you, but it often involved too much of a risk of getting tagged by the defense, so most people who were brought to jail stayed there until the end of the round. But enough about the rules.

Our team was on offense first. Ed, Alex, and I ran off to hide while her sister's team counted to 50. We were all hiding behind a large bush in the yard of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, a nice couple of senior citizens who always had a kind word for anyone that came to visit them. Ed asked if anyone had a plan on how we would get to the stop sign and everyone went silent. I said I could do it by distracting them but Alex objected. "You can't do that, there's three of them and one of you. It just doesn't make sense."

"You know what, Math-Girl? I'll try my way and you try yours and we'll see who gets to sit in jail." I felt so mad that she thought she was better than me. She was becoming a condescending shrew in my eyes. "Are you coming with me or not, Ed?" He sighed deeply and said, "Sorry Alex, I think Jake's right."

We ran off and gathered some pebbles. I spotted Alex's sister and her friends but they couldn't see me. I stood up, staying out of sight, and threw the pebbles against a distant wall to distract them with the noise. They looked away and I took off for the stop sign.

I was about 20 feet away with no one in sight, and said to myself, "I told Alex her stupid theories wouldn't work this ti..." I was suddenly shoved to the ground by a linebacker-ish girl named Sarah. It was Alex's sister and she smelled as if she hadn't taken a shower in over a month. She was sweating and panting and she yelled out in her best imitation of a southern accent, "Well goll-dang, I done caught me a enemy suljer". Her attempt at humor neither relieved my spirits nor my newly-acquired chest pains.

"Get off me, you fat mess!" I yelled at her. Her friend had tackled Ed and we were pinioned as we watched Alex slip right by the distracted brutes. The first night of summer did not prove to be as exciting as I had planned.

Hours later, she said, "Well Jake, I guess your distraction plan really does work, we just needed the right distraction." Years later, I found out that Alex had tipped her sister's team off on what we were doing and they pretended to be distracted until we were close enough to be tackled.

Lesson #: Don't argue with someone who has connections to the other team.

Lesson #: Females will sacrifice everything for revenge.

6-19-99

Summer Sports

Another great thing about summer was the necessity it created for things to do. One way we entertained ourselves was with the invention of various games. Today’s game was called "Bloodball", and by the name, you can tell that we didn’t know the meaning of the word "Two-hand touch". We'd get a big rubber kickball and put down T-shirts to create goals. The object was to get the ball to roll through the opponent's goal by any means necessary. This involved kicking, tackling, or anything one could imagine. There was one rule: No punching in the face because the first one to go home with a jaw void of teeth would end Bloodball immediately with a parent's call to the local police department.

I wanted to get back at Sarah for kneeling on my chest and embarrassing me. I had the perfect plan: I would get down on all fours right behind her and Ed would push her over me and everyone would laugh hysterically. Based on my previous luck, one could probably predict that this didn't turn out exactly the way I figured.

I assumed the position behind Sarah and Ed went to push her, but suddenly Alex, who was carrying the ball for the opposing team "accidentally" dropped the ball right in front of me. Suddenly, all 16 kids that were playing jumped on top of me, including Sarah. I couldn't breathe for about two minutes. Alex couldn't breath either but only because she was laughing so hard.

After a while, the ball was kicked away from me and most of the kids ran after it. Sarah remained on top of me, with Alex still chuckling.

Just when I thought the horror of this incident was almost over and I could start to recoup from the ignominy of breaking the fall of a Whale-sized individual, I felt a rumbling. This was no ordinary rumble. This rumble could have been recorded on the Richter Scale. It seemed like lampposts were falling over, fence posts were shooting up everywhere, and mothers were taking their children off of the street. I hope and prayed that the menacing sound wasn’t what I thought it was.

But suddenly, an odor pervaded approximately a 20 square foot radius. This was the odor created from the deep innards of the toxic waste producer that was Sarah. My eyes were tearing, not from sadness, but from the intolerable smell. The play stopped as everyone ran for the hills (metaphorically). I was the only one, once again caught under Sarah, to stick around.

Lesson #: Women don't stop after attaining revenge once.

6-20-99

There's Always Next Year

One thing that my friends had in common was that they all had Summer birthdays. Ed’s was July 6th (which will be discussed in its respective place in the story). Zach and Annie were both born on September 4th, the day before school usually started. But the one Summer birthday that everyone paid attention to was that of Lynn. Her birthday, June 20th, had never been formally celebrated in all the years that we knew her. It wasn't because she was a bad person, nor was it because she didn't stand out much. In fact, she was one of the more outspoken of our small group of friends. It just seemed that the tide of Lynn's luck was always low on this specific date for the last four years.

In 1995, she had planned a birthday party at the local bowling alley. I showed up before everyone else to help her set up and as I walked in, I searched around for her. She wasn't very hard to find because she and her parents were the only ones in the entire building. Apparently, according to the story in the newspaper the next day, there had been an accident behind the bowling pins. A mechanic, trying to fix one of the broken pin-setters, was startled when the machinery was turned on. Beyond this, the newspaper held no reason for the alley being evacuated. Rumor, however, dictated an extra part of the story. The Mechanic's hand was severed off and made its way back to the bowlers through the bowled-ball dispenser. The bloody scene witnessed first-hand (no pun intended) by the bowlers had apparently scared them all away. As I walked up to the only group left, Lynn and her parents, Lynn was sitting and crying, as her parents packed up the party favors. The owner had decided to close the Alley for the day, and Lynn was driven home without a party.

In 1996, her beach party was cut short because of a jelly-fish warning. In 1997, there was a hurricane watch. In 1998, there was a West-Nile virus alert. We all started to believe that some Higher Being decided that Lynn should never celebrate her birthday with her friends. I, being opposed to the idea of a higher controlling force at the time, had tried to prove Lynn wrong and break the cycle of ruined birthdays.

Lynn was a good friend of mine because she didn't take nonsense from anyone. If she had a problem with you, she wouldn't wait for you to figure it out by pouting and frowning around you. She would often walk right up to you and clearly express her grievance, often using very, as she put it, "descriptive" language. I had immediately experienced this language when Lynn decided that she didn't appreciate the fact that I made fun of her friends. She walked straight up to me and, in front of an elementary school cafeteria filled with very critical peers, yelled at me as if I was a little child. I was acting like a child of course, but I told her to mind her own business. Looking back on that a few years later, I was glad that she defended her friends. We had found more in common than a need to voice our opinions and became close soon after that. Hoping to show her how important she was to me, I decided that I would expend all of my efforts to throw her a formal birthday party. (By "formal", I mean "actually happening").

With her parents, I had helped to plan a party at the local Laser Tag arena. It was next to the mall, so the plan was that Ed and I would pretend to walk her to the mall for a birthday ice-cream and at the last second, we'd drag her into the laser tag building and all of her friends would be there to yell "Surprise". This seemed like a pretty well-thought-out plan to me. The party was planned for 7 o'clock at night, and we left her house at about 5 o'clock. We decided to walk so that her parents could drive to the Arena and set up early.

It was about 6:00 and the three of us were somewhat tired of walking. We were about 10 minutes from the mall, and we sat down on a bench to rest.

"You know what I think this is a perfect time for?", Lynn asked me and Ed rhetorically. I figured that a joke would follow but it didn't. Instead, Lynn reached into her purse and pulled out a flask and said enthusiastically, "I think it's time for a birthday drink!" Ed and I were absolutely shocked. Besides a few trespassing violations, Lynn seemed to be a law-abiding citizen.

"Where in the hell did you get that?" Ed asked as he held her arm to stop her from drinking.

"My older brother thought it would be a nice birthday gift." She said as she yanked her arm from Ed's grasp. She chugged for about 4 seconds, wiped her mouth off, and put the flask back into her purse. She got up and started walking again, and we followed, completely flabbergasted by the scene that had just been lain before us. By the time we were at the parking lot, Lynn was just about wasted. Ed and I were caught between ruining the surprise, and ruining the birthday party if Lynn showed up as drunk as we hoped she wouldn't get. We tried to distract her from the flask, but we couldn't. Finally, I thought that action was the only way I could put an end to this.

I grabbed the flask from her hand and said, "Lynn you can't drink any more. Your friends and family are all waiting for you."

"What are you talking about?" She said, somewhat frazzled at the thought that her parents would see her inebriated. "Holy Crap. You guys are throwing me a surprise party?" She was both honored by the fact that there was going to be a party in her honor, but also mad at us that we didn't ruin the surprise earlier to make sure she didn't show up drunk.

"Alright" she said, trying to take control of the situation, "How do I look. Am I sober-looking?" She asked us the question as if we knew the looks of a drunk person besides the fact that they were usually lying down in a gutter in a pile of their own throw-up.

"I think you can pull this off", said Ed, "Just relax and look normal. No one will see much anyway. We're all going to be in the dark."

"Yeah, exactly....wait....did you say IN THE DARK.

"Yeah, so what? They won't be able to see that you're blasted."

Lynn explained how difficult it is to run around in the dark while intoxicated. Although, she admitted, it would be fun, she feared that after the whole ordeal was over, she'd be covered by bumps and bruises.

There was nothing I could do, so being the responsible young adult that I was, I decided to forget about it and hope for the best. Ed and I opened the doors and as Lynn walked into the place, a loud ringing "Surprise!" could be heard all around from the lobby. The party had begun and Lynn would have to fake soberness as best as possible.

Just to make sure that I knew the Gods were upset with me for merely living, it was somehow arranged that we would all enjoy a rousing game of Pin The Tail On The Donkey. Of course, being the birthday girl, Lynn went first. As soon as the blindfold was on, and the sharp pin was in her hand, I knew there was no way to avoid the utter atrocities that were to follow. Lynn stumbled around trying to maintain her balance. Annie grabbed Lynn and started spinning her around, according to the games rules, and then let her go.

She stumbled around, now drunk AND dizzy, and started to make her way towards an elderly man in the corner of the room, who had been waiting for his grandchildren to come out of the laser arena. I winced as I pictured this old man turning around and yelling at Lynn, along with our entire party.

She got closer and closer as I started to bite my nails. I wanted to go and stop her from doing it, but then I'd have to explain that she was drunk and that's why she couldn't control her own actions. I thought to myself, 'C'mon Jake. Just do it. It's not worth this old guy's ass just to make sure no one finds out that Lynn is drunk.' Before I could change my mind, I started towards Lynn.

She was within 6 inches of sticking the man with the tail and I reached out. Suddenly, the lights went out. The lazer equipment all shut down as we heard a decrescendo of buzzing noises, the stereotypical sound of all electricity shutting off. There seemed to be a yelping noise as well from the corner of the room, but no one noticed it because we were all focused on the dark which had just enveloped us. We were all silent for a second and from behind me I heard a masculine voice exclaim, "It's Lynn's birthday curse." We were saved by the curse. Once again, Lynn would skip another birthday party. I thought to myself, 'There's always next year'.

Lesson #: If you stab someone in the rear, make sure the lights are off.

Lesson #: One's man's curse is another man's blessing.

6-21-99

Adventures with Mitsy

Ed and I were playing basketball in my backyard, reflecting on the first weekend of Summer that had just passed when the shot that he threw up found its way over the fence and into the yard of the house behind mine. I would have just jumped over, grabbed the ball, and jumped back but there were two obstacles which prevented me from doing so. The first obstacle a fence too high for me too merely jump over, yet too weak to hold my weight while I climbed it without toppling over. The latter was an extreme risk because of the second obstacle: A 100-pound bulldog named Mitsy. To say that Mitsy was lethal would be an understatement. This dog, not much different from the other females I knew, would rip your face off with its teeth if you did something it didn't like.

My chum and I were faced with quite a quandary. Should we risk our lives and our manhood for the salvation of my only basketball, or would we just find something else to do. We reviewed the facts and came up with a conclusion. 1) A ball is not worth risking safety, 2) If we didn't want to lose the ball we should have been more careful, and 3) We were adolescent males and stupid facts were the last things we needed to control what we did.

So we decided to retrieve the ball from the hands, actually the paws, of this giant mastiff.

We took a while to think up a plan, seeing as the person to come up with the plan would be able to decide who would go over the fence and risk his life. "I have an idea" I said and Ed looked at me with a half-excited, half-frightened gaze that told me he knew he would have to go over the fence and face the demon.

"OK, I'm gonna need water balloons and a bra."

"Where are we going to find water balloons?", Ed asked.

"I can buy them down at the drug store. You really thought that the problem would be with water balloons? Where the hell are we going to find a bra?"

"Jake, you forget that I have 3 older sisters."

We split up and gathered the necessary "weaponry". My plan was to distract the dog by launching water balloons from the make-shift sling shot of Ed's sister's bra. I would set it up out of one of the windows on the second story of my house. When I got the dog away from the ball, Ed would jump off of the roof, over the fence, and retrieve it. Of course this sounded like an infallible plan to me. When I told Ed that his method of transportation would be flight, he was less than happy, but still willing, to serve the cause.

I set up everything and, with water balloons locked and loaded, told Ed to prepare for lift-off. I launched the first 2 balloons, one per cup in our launcher, and they were both direct hits. The dog scampered into a corner of its dominion, as if to accept defeat. The basketball was ours for the taking. "GO", I yelled and Ed got a running start and flung himself from the edge of the roof. I watched as he cleared the top of the fence. I was so excited that I didn't notice that Mitsy decided to give one last attempt at defending her new found booty.

Two noises pervaded the echoing atmosphere of my little corner of Fisherville. First there was a loud thud and then a muffled groan. I figured Ed broke an arm or a leg. But luckily for Ed, Mitsy broke his fall. Unluckily for Mitsy, Mitsy broke his fall. Misty was the one who emitted the groan. Everyone says there are two ways to look at every situation. I saw a saved basketball and an unexpectedly healthy best friend. Ed saw a dead dog and no alibi.

In the process of concocting our plan, we forgot to figure out how Ed would get back over the gargantuan fence that separated the yard he was currently in and the freedom of my yard. So, thinking quickly, I grabbed a rope from my shed. I threw it over and as Ed climbed back over the fence he respectfully pointed out the fact that the rope could have helped us both very much in our attempt to get him over the fence the first time. Well, maybe not respectfully.

We ran like criminals, fleeing the scene of the crime. My neighbors never figured out that it was Ed and me who killed their dog, but they did find it very strange that there were little colorful balloon scraps on the ground. This was one of my more exciting Mondays.

Ed's Birthday

It was July 6th, Ed's birthday. and Ed had been looking forward to this day for a long time. It wasn't because he turned 15 or because he knew that he had come one year closer to such privileges as driving and being admitted to "R" movies, but because of his gift. He watched it in the window of the Sharper Image at the Fisherville Mall. It was remote controlled from up to 500 feet away. Its body was bright red and its wings and tail were beautiful. This was no ordinary gift, this was a remote-controlled plane.

Ed brought it over my house, completely assembled and charged and we both marveled at its splendor. We were equally excited at the possibilities. We decided to make a take-off/landing strip so I took him down to the basement and we found some old cardboard boxes. As we were bringing them up, we found something that neither Ed, nor I could ignore. Across the room there was an open barrel of unused fire crackers from two days ago (July 4th). It was as if the injury Gods wouldn't rest until we were both in the Emergency Room.

We put the fireworks in the box as we walked upstairs, past my dad. "What are you two up to today?" he innocently asked us. "Oh not much," I replied, "just building a little air strip for Ed's plane." Having dealt with the situation as best I could, I nudged Ed along and we walked out of the door.

This was the best birthday gift that either of us had ever come across. So of course, we had to figure out a way to blow it up. Now we wouldn't intentionally explode this fine piece of craftsmanship. But we both knew deep down that the destruction of the plane was pretty much inevitable. If the plane somehow survived, it would be because we, by some odd chance, actually blew up what we intended to (ie, the actual target that we were using the plane to destroy). The intended target we aimed for was the Pinky's evasion shed  I wanted to get even with Pinky and his gang for the bruise on the back of my head and for the attack on my house. But how would we drop the fireworks from the plane and accurately hit the shed?  We didn't really waste much time with answering logical questions because we both knew that if logic were involved, our summer wouldn't live up to its potential.

We pondered this dilemma as we walked to within 500 feet of the target. We were a safe distance away from the shed, up in a tree, and brought ample supplies. I brought along a pair of binoculars, a few rubber bands, and some matches. We had no clue of the names of each firework or how exactly each worked, but this didn't stop us. All we needed to know was that when you light the fuse and wait for a certain amount of time, something explodes. Whether that explosion happens close or far from the source of the fire was to be determined by fate as we randomly picked two fireworks to strap to the side of the plane.
I struck the match, lit the fuse, and we put the plane on the runway. It took off and quickly made its way to the destination point. I watched with binoculars in hand as Ed controlled our aerial assassin. Suddenly we both heard a hissing sound. It was the fireworks zooming away from the plane. This was a relief and a crowd-pleaser. We were relieved that the plane wouldn't explode seeing as the fireworks freed themselves from the rubber bands attaching them to the plane. We were also excited that the shed, undoubtedly containing Pinky and his gang, was about to be turned into shambles.

About 15 seconds before impact, a huge SUV pulled up in front of the shed. I panicked and yelled "Abort, pull up" but it was too late because, as was already mentioned, the firework had detached.  Luckily for us, it was a hot day out and the windows were down. The explosive zoomed through the truck and past the driver, who remained unidentified to Ed and me so far. We were so relieved that we weren't going to go to jail for blowing up a car that we failed to realize our plan to sabotage the Pistols' little fort was a success. Pinky came out screaming curses and toting his paint ball gun in the air. Neither Pinky nor we realized that the driver of the car right next to the shed was none other than Pinky's mother.

"What do you think you're doing setting off explosives in the neighborhood. You could have killed yourself young man!!!"

"But Mom, I didn't..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses, now get into the car now."

"But Mom..."

"Francis Hughes Paciello, get in this car right now"

As I watched Pinky get into the car, I realized I had a weapon stronger than any missile. I had the power to ruin Pinky's reputation throughout Fisherville. The next time that Pinky messed with me, I would reply by saying, "Listen Francis, if you aren't home by bedtime, Mommy won't give you desert for a week."  As I chuckled to myself, I pictured myself making Pinky the laughing stock of everyone, even his own gang.

I guess I'd figure out exactly how I'd use it later. As for now, I was happy that he was sad and his fort was trashed. I was also happy that the plane wasn't wrecked. All in all, it was a good day and I sensed that Ed was enjoying his birthday. Then we went to Alex's house.

We flew the plane around for a little while, still relieved that we didn't die or get killed by a number of possible assailants. We slowly made our way to Alex's street. I was looking up and controlling the plane and following Ed by watching him out of the corner of my eye. I realized where he had led me when I heard a high pitched squeal that could only have belonged to Alex.

"Shut up Dad, I'm not getting a job this summer. I don't care if you can't afford my clothes. Why don't you get another job instead of watching Oprah all of the goddamn ti....oh hi guys."

"Alex you shouldn't fight with your family like that", said Ed. He often acted as the Public Defendant in the Hutzpah house. Alex would get herself into fights because she, as mentioned before, lacked essential social graces such as shutting the hell up.

"Ed, mind your own business" she replied bitterly. I could tell there was going to be a fight. In fact, I think the reader can tell that there's going to be a fight. Anyway, in the interest of the reader, I'll skip the maledictions spewed forth from the shrew and cut to the last scene, included with the soundtrack that played in my mind as I watched this no-holds-barred melee.

(Ride of the Valkyries starts playing)
"I'm tired of how you treat everyone around you Alex. (Bum Buh-da-da-Dum Dum, Bum Buh-da-da-Dum-Dum,) I'm tired of how you treat me. (Bum Buh-da-da-Dum, Bum Bah-dum) Everyone around you goes out of their way to make Princess Hutzpah happy and what do you do in return? (Cymbal Crash) You're malicious (Cymbal Crash) and condescending. (Cymbal Crash) You think you deserve the treatment that everyone gives you? (Cymbal Crash) You think you deserve the treatment that I show to you? (Drum Roll) You don't. (Thunder Strikes)"

(Beethoven's 5th Symphany interupts Ride of the Valkeyries)
"Ed, I don't care what you think anymore. (Buh-da-da-da-dum). There are alot of guys that would walk on glass to get with me. (Buh-da-da-da-dum) If you don't want to be with me anymore, than leave. (Buh-da-da, Dum Dum Dum)"

(Ode to Joy overpowers Beethoven's 5th Symphany)
"Fine, It's over! (Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Buh-da-da-da-da-bum bum)"

And he left. It was the most noble and justified thing I've ever seen Ed do. He left five years of his life behind him and came to the realization that she wasn't worth anything he did for her in the last three. The first two years of their relationship, Alex was extremely nice. In fact, before Ed asked her out, I even tried to strike her fancy but there was something that irked me about her. (Specifically, that she didn't like me back) Ed fell in love, or he thought he did, with Alex after that second year. The love he felt for her at that time justified everything that she did to him in his mind for the next three years. But, once again, I digress.

As he walked away, we both heard a ringing noise. It was his cell phone. I'm sure this will surprise the reader as much as the outbreak of the fight did, but it was Alex who had called him. The volume on his phone's ear-piece was blaring and I could therefore, fortunately to both me and the reader, hear every word she said.

She was crying and she managed to whimper "I wasn't serious. I'm just having a bad day. Baby you know I love you..."

I could see the nice-guy in Ed coming out. He got that look on his face that almost said, "I'm gonna forgive her". I didn't know what I was going to do. Ed finally ended the relationship that gave him the most trepidation in the past three years of his life, and he was about to go back to it because he couldn't bare to hear her cry, especially if he was connected to the crying somehow. Without thinking, I grabbed the phone from his hand.

"He only says he loves you because you expect him to. He doesn't love you. He's been over you for a few months now. Alex, it's over. Finally, he said its over. You think because you're smart that you can walk all over everyone. You're wrong and you've lost the best thing that ever came your way. You couldn't even be nice to him on his birthday. Don't try to make him..." The whole time Ed was grabbing at my arm trying to get the phone and he finally got hold of it. Before he could put his mouth to the speaker, I pressed END and it was over.

He started to dial her number again to apologize and most-likely make-up when a miracle happened. The Nokia-Gods had shown me hope. A beeping noise sounded and we both looked on his phone's screen. The tiny text box said that the batteries were too low to make a call. Ed didn't have any access to a phone until we got to my house, and he knew it would be a good hour before I'd let him call her. By that time, who knows what guys' house she'd go over for a little "venting".

I told him that he'd thank me later and we started a long walk to his house. He finally broke up with her. He accepted it and it was done.

Lesson #: Even the toughest and most popular people have geeky traits.
Lesson #: Sometimes, your point of view should be forced upon a blind person.

7-07-99

Love Interests and Middle Eastern Obstacles

After enduring the proper period of recuperation time for the big break up scene (after all, he did have a full day to achieve closure), Ed started to show an interest in a new girl. Ed's mom would be driving us now because Alex's mom no longer cared much for either of us after Alex's biased version of the breakup scene.

For some reason. Ed developed quite a taste for ice cream. I must have gained five pounds in those next two weeks from all of the Chocolate-Chip-Cookie-Dough ice cream I ate. That day, Ed and Annie babbled inarticulately at each other for hours on topics of conversation that had no relevance to life whatsoever.

"So like, um, Annie, what's your favorite Jelly"

"Um, like, um Grape I guess."

The funny thing was that when these two were separated, Annie could discuss the current political situation in the Middle East and Ed recited improvised poetry about the beauty of nature. I guess its just something about mixing hormones and ice cream that melts down the brain.

Anyway, during today's' discussion, Ed decided that he'd try to impress Annie by talking about Politics. Apparently, Ed didn't realize that politics could not be treated like other topics such as Baseball.

"So how about those Middle Easterners? You think they're ever going to stop with the whinny shit and just accept that no ones going to win? And how about this Sodomy Insane guy? What a jerk head. Am I right?"

This was the first and only time that ice cream literally came out of my nose. Ed not only managed to offend Annie, but there was a 6'3", hulking mass of Middle Eastern male sitting right behind Ed, who suddenly slammed down his small strawberry cup.

The man rose to his feet and turned around. As I looked into his eyes, mine still wet with tears of laughter, I realized that he did not enjoy Ed's ignorance as much as I did. He swiftly pointed his gargantuan finger at me and shouted a slew of what seemed to be Arabic curses. Ed had a look on his face as if he had passed a kidney stone the size of a nuclear warhead.

With the events that followed, both Ed and I gained a new found respect for Annie. Annie started speaking to the man in a language that we had never heard her speak before. I was actually afraid that I was going to bring her to a doctor for Turrets Syndrome after we brought Ed to the Emergency Room for severe head trauma. But the man listened, nodded his head and Annie took him back to the counter and gave him another cup of Ice Cream. They shook hands and the man walked away.

A few minutes after the whole episode transpired, Annie came back to our table.. Having not closed my jaw yet, it was obvious that I had not a clue as to what had just happened. Before allowing me to ask anything, Annie said, "He's Lebanese. He was very offended. He thought that you said those comments instead of Ed."

"So how the hell am I still alive?" I asked. "That guy's twice my size and..."

"I told him that you have Downs Syndrome and just repeat things you hear from American movies. He said he understands because his cousin has a mental disorder also."

"Well that's great. A complete stranger thinks th...oh never mind...at least I'm alive. How did you understand him?"

"He was speaking Arabic. I went to a sleep away camp two years ago and lived with a group of girls who all spoke that language. I can understand alot of it, but speaking it's pretty difficult. I almost told him that you repeat everything you hear from American Politicians." We all emitted a nervous laugh, still a little on-edge from our almost-fatal encounter.

I told Ed and Annie that I wanted to go pick up a new video game from the Electronics store on the other end of the mall and that I'd meet up with them in about 20 minutes at the front entrance. I walked towards the store but on the way, I completely forgot about my intended purchase. Sitting at the food court, located across the way from my destination, was Becky sitting with her friend from school. I wanted to go and talk to her but I didn't know how to. I figured that I'd try getting some food and sitting down near her. I'd figure out my plan from there.

I got a hotdog and as I scouted the area around her, something miraculous happened. Her friend got up, took both of their trays, and said goodbye. This was my chance. I wanted to take advantage of the situation before God realized what good fortune I had and took it away. I walked over and said to her, as smoothly as a voice-cracking, zit-faced, skinny, pale, 15-year-old kid could, "Hey, your name is Becky, right? We go to Fisherville together."

"Hey yeah. I'm sorry, I don't know your name. Your on JV basketball right?"

"My name's Jake," I was so excited that she realized I was alive that I didn't care that she didn't know my name, "Hey listen. I've got a few minutes to spare and my friends are on the other side of the mall. Do you mind if I have lunch here...uh...with you?"

"Yeah sure, sit down. I'm pretty much finished with mine but I could always use the company. I'm waiting for my uncle."

We talked for about 10 minutes and since she lived next to Alex and always heard her screaming at her parents, Ed, etc., we had a common topic of conversation. It turns out that we had more in common than I thought. I decided to do the unthinkable: ask her out on a date.

"So, I was thinking....maybe...some time....we could..."

"Oh Hi Uncle Beshara." She exclaimed, looking past me and waving to someone, presumably her uncle, who was behind me.

"Hi Becky," said a familiarly ominous voice. It was the Lebanese man from the Ice Cream stand.

"This is my friend from school, Jake." He looked and immediately recognized me.

"I didn't realize they have special education in the States' public schools," he said in a confused manner.

"What are you talking about Uncle?"

"Never mind, I'll tell you in the car. C'mon lets go"

And without a word from my mouth, I watched the girl with who I was infatuated walk away because my friend was trying to impress the girl of his infatuation. Apparently, God had found out about my good fortune before I could fully take advantage of it.

A bit depressed, I searched for my friends so I could explain once again how horrible my life was. Apparently, Ed had other plans besides giving his condolences. He and Annie had decided that, instead of attempting once again to discuss political issues, kissing in the middle of a crowded mall was the best mode of interaction.

I had no idea how to react. My hopes had once again been crushed, and Ed had once again gotten the girl he wanted without even trying. In fact, he did worse than not trying, he actually messed his chances up from what I thought. He somehow always figured out a way to have girls see past his "small errors" and fall head-over-heels for him. I, however, actually tried and now the girl of my dreams thought I had Downs Syndrome.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to yell at them, congratulate them, or make them feel sorry for me because I was not as successful. I decided to instead, avoid confrontation altogether and walk straight out of the mall and all the way home.

Lesson #: If you're going to talk about something controversial, make sure you know what you're talking about.
Lesson #: The one who can communicate the best to the most powerful person is, as a result, the second most powerful person.
Lesson #: Don't leave two teenagers alone for more than 2 minutes if you don't want them ravaging each other
Lesson #: Regardless of pride, a two hour walk home is never fun.

7-08-99

She's a Keeper

It took my a warm shower and my Good Charlotte CD to get over everything by myself, but I came to the point of realization that I had nothing to be mad about. Ed had no obligation to be as lonely as I was, and Annie certainly had no obligation to avoid him just because he put his foot in his mouth when conversing about Current Events in front of someone who they truly affected.

I talked to both of them, apologized, and they accepted. They were now officially "going out". One must understand that at our current age, the term "going out" was very complicated. "Going out" didn't just mean that two people were going out on a date. This would be too simple. "Going out" meant that the two people had a general liking for each other. This term was more of a state of being rather than an action. In fact, two people could "go out" without actually "going out".
It was often quite confusing, but entertaining nonetheless, to hear that two people "went out" for an hour, which was the approximate length of the "going out" period between two freshmen. The best part of these hour long relationships that my classmates often shared was that the break ups were not shortened whatsoever.  Sometimes, the fights actually lasted longer than the relationships. Nothing picked up the pace of a slow day than hearing about a fight between people who knew each other for an hour. It was almost as if people that wanted to get into a fight with someone of the opposite sex "went out" with that person first, so as to build up a strong disliking for them.

But hopefully, I told all who asked my opinion on Annie and Ed, the relationship would last. Although it is funny to predict the length of relationships in terms of hours and days, rather than in weeks and months, I hoped that they would be happy with each other and that they would stay together for a while. Annie needed someone to care for her as much as she deserved to be cared for, and Ed needed someone to cherish him as much as he cherished her. They fit each other perfectly in my opinion and I would have been happy for them if not for my long string of bad luck in love. Of course, I never told either of them this because they would have felt guilty for enjoying themselves.

Anyway, Ed and I went out to have some pizza with Annie and her cousin. Annie had tried over and over to set me up with her cousins, aunts, friends, half-cousins, and about anything else that could have resembled a female. Unfortunately, I found not one of them attractive or even nice. I always thanked her for trying but figured out some kind of ridiculous excuse to escape seeing any of these girls again like, "I'm allergic to brown hair" or "We have religious differences".

Today's cousin of hers was no different. Unlike Annie, this girl was rude, obnoxious, haughty, and expected everyone to accept that she was God's gift to the world. Then her very bad traits came out.  We all sat in the booth at the Pizza Place, and I heard the sound of a car horn from outside. Figuring that there would be an interesting interaction between two irate drivers (or maybe a breakup), I turned my head completely around. Unfortunately, I only saw Alex walking to the door. She looked mad, and she was looking at us. She walked up to us and started crying before she could even talk.

"Listen you little tramp," she yelled at Annie, "You'll never replace me and you two will never have what Ed and I had"

Enraged at her outright disregard for anyone's feelings, I got up. It was once again my turn to say something. "Listen you selfish, stupid, emotionally-shallow, arrogant, sorry-excuse-for-a-person. You give females, and the human-race in general, a bad name. I'm tired of hearing you trying to ruin everyone's life. You're a smart girl but you have no common sense, nor any common decency. Just go away. No one here listens to or believes anything you have to say. It's not Ed's fault that he was the only one who could stand talking to you for more than two minutes without wanting to smack you."  Somehow, I found bouts of fluency and elegance in the worst possible scenarios.

"Who do you think you are, you scrawny little piece of crap? You think you're better than me? You can keep your little 'friend' and for your information, plenty of guys want me, and I have no problem seeing them" She snottily retorted.

"Then why did you go out of your way to prove to us that you've got nothing better to do than stalk my best friend."

Alex looked away from me and focused her attention once again on Annie. She hated Annie and started yelling directly at her. Annie tried to avoid this kind of confrontation but I could tell that something was boiling inside of her as well. Alex had a way of producing this affect on an entire room of people without much effort.

"C'mon skank. You wanna fight?" Alex actually challenged the nicest girl I've ever known to a fight. Everyone around us could tell that Alex was desperate.

"I'm not going to fight you." Annie said as she stood up, "Just go home." She turned to us and said, "excuse me, I have to go to the ladies room." I figured she was going to have an emotional break-down, and her cousin got up to escort her. But in a last ditch effort to salvage any respect, Alex grabbed Annie's hair.
Almost as if she expected it to happen, Annie calmly grabbed Alex's hand, twisted her wrist until she let go of the hair, and kicked Alex's legs out from under her.

"GO HOME BITCH.", she yelled.

Whimpering, Alex got up and left the Pizza Place without a word. She jumped into her friends' car and it zoomed off.

Annie stood in silence, starting to tear. The entire group of witnesses had all watched the incident without talking for about five minutes. Annie, who wasn't accustomed too being in the public eye, had walked off to the bathroom with her cousin. Ed hadn't said a word but we both looked at each other. He finally said three words that summed up both of our opinions: "She's a keeper."

I later asked her if she picked that up from the same Arab girls.

Lesson #: Don't encourage people who just want to get you mad, unless it's absolutely necessary to kick his or her ass.
Lesson #: Those who save his or her curse words for the end of the argument have the deepest effect.
Lesson #: Always watch out for the quiet ones

7-09-99

Ed's Second Case of Animal Cruelty

A Mature man knows when not to add insult to injury. Alex had been emotionally scarred last night at the Pizza Place and everyone probably wanted to things to settle down so we could all get on with living our lives. Boy, was I glad that I wasn't one of those "Mature men". For the first time, Ed let me unleash my fury on this girl and I was going to give her the greatest insult imaginable: Toilet Papering her house. For those of you who might have grown up in a community with either all nice people or Neighborhood Watch, let me explain what toilet papering is. The assailants take toilet rolls, and sometimes Shaving Cream if they're feeling risque'. They drive to the target house and unload those supplies on the house in a very scattered approach. When done with this form of Vandalism-lite, everyone gets back into the car that took them to the house and the car speeds away in hopes of not being caught. Oh yes, it's quite fun.

First problem? Alex owned a ferocious dog that she usually kept locked up in the back when visitors came to the house. If we were to visit the house at night, we would have a run in with the dog because it's kept out in the front yard over night, and Ed had had his fill of dogs for the summer. This meant that we would have to be in some sort of portable box, protected by a hard material such as steel. (A CAR!!!) But who did we know that owned a car and would risk their own skin just for a little fun?

While we were discussing this, sitting at the mall and having some ice cream that next afternoon, the lack of wheels had us down in the dumps. Lynn walked by and sat down next to us. We started to tell her about the situation and she wanted a piece of the action. We explained that this wasn't possible, because we didn't have a car. And then we heard those three words that would make anyone cry with tears of joy, "My boyfriend drives".

We immediately rushed to the local convenient store, and, gee, how convenient the store was. We picked up two bags of 48 rolls of toilet paper and 7 industrial sized cans of shaving cream. While keeping a straight face, I had to explain to the cashier that every member of my twenty-member family except for me had come down with chronic diarrhea. Ed had to explain that in his culture, shaving cream baths were considered good luck.

We took our supplies back to my house, and planned our attack. We would be done within 30 seconds. It would be a hit and run and we would only need that half-minute to do some real damage. We packed some hamburgers from my fridge in case we got in trouble with the dog.

That night, Lynn and her boyfriend, Tim, picked us up from my house at about 9 pm. I told my mom I'd be back soon and that we were heading down to the pizza place to have dinner with some friends. I wasn't too heavy on the details so I still had some wriggle room in the case of getting caught. I'd never met Tim, but I trusted Lynn enough to not put me in harm's way. She had stopped drinking after her birthday incident.

He rolled up in a black 98' Toyota Avalon. The dark color let it blend in with the night and the street, so we wouldn't be too identifiable. We got in, didn't say much, and handed the directions to him. Lynn told us that he was a psycho when it came to driving. He didn't allow anyone to use his cell phone in the car and the passenger always had to know the directions and use an atlas whenever asked. He ran his car as if he was a general.

For this operation, we all wore black and I sensed that Tim took it a bit far. He had a helmet and face paint, as well as dark camouflage makeup across his face. He was quite excited to go toilet papering, even though he didn't even know Alex.

We turned onto Alex's block and Tim turned the headlights off. I pointed to the house and suddenly, Tim slammed on the breaks. "We can't get that house. That's Pinky's girlfriend's house"

My jaw dropped. Not only did I just find out that Lynn was dating a Pistol, but I also that their fearless leader, Pinky, was dating Ed's ex-girlfriend. I looked at Ed and he was pissed. He got out of the car and took that shaving cream bottles with him. He got out, put them down, and started unloading the toilet paper rolls as well. The rest of us sat in the car and watched him, wondering what his next move would be. The look in his eyes seemed to tell me everything I needed to know. He was going to do the house up anyway, without this guy's help.