The sun was creeping down the horizon as we climbed onto our porch. A new night approached, a third round of madness. We all scattered in different directions to prepare for the evening, except me and Grace. She joined me on the trusty wicker bench. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter lay on the glass table. I grabbed one and lit up, even though I wasn’t craving it. Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 13
At some point Boris materialized, drawn to the positive vibes with his strange, predator-like way of seeking things out.
“How’s it been, man?” I asked.
“Excellent.” He cocked his head and gave an A-okay gesture, clenching together his thumb and index finger very tightly, practically pulsating, as if straining against his will to show his excellence. “I was just,” but he paused to exhale and wriggle his limbs, forcing himself to relax. “I was just goofing off with Ojas when I realized that I needed to do my own thing. Sometimes you know that you need to do you. And I know you know that, man. So I ended up walking along the water for miles – miles and miles, brotha.” Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 12
Nathan continued laughing maniacally as Ojas crawled back into bed, promising to wake up in an hour. We returned to the living room where Phillipa and Shelly were sipping on their lattes on the same couch as before.
“Did y’all hear about Carl’s stingray incident?” Shelly asked with an ironic southern accent. “Apparently he’s in surgery now. Doctors say they’re doing all they can to keep him alive.” There was playfulness beneath her somber tone, but Nathan’s gullible frame of mind succumbed all-too easily, and his bliss transmogrified into mournful despondency. He looked pleadingly toward Shelly, hanging on her every word. Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 10
Everything was soon out of control. The dregs and miscreants of Southern California were infiltrating our house. Mitch stood atop a chair on the porch, scouting out potential customers on the boardwalk, directing them to the Drug Den. Mandy, meanwhile, was selling their inventory upstairs. I was impressed by their business model, all-the-while praying for my possessions, which were tucked in the closet of our unlocked bedroom. I then spotted Arnold at the other end of the room and waved at him, standing on my tip-toes to see over the swarm of strangers. Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 8
As I smoked another cigarette, leaning over the porch and watching the passersby, it struck me that Carl and Eddy would not be returning to hear my thoughts. So it goes, I was drunk and ready to be drunker. I went in for another beer and bumped into Ojas, who was visibly more intoxicated than thirty minutes previously.
“Johnny-fucking-BOY!” he exulted, crushing a beer can underneath his foot and wildly flapping his tongue in the air, spraying globs of saliva on the bushy blonde hair of a blissfully unaware girl standing nearby. “Jesus Christ man it’s good to see you!” Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 3
The final leg of our drive was easy enough. We stuck to the coast and went south. Mission Beach begins as California’s coastline narrows into a scraggly peninsular strip, awkwardly wedged between the Pacific Ocean and Mission Bay, a butterfly-shaped coastal cleft of saltwater arteries and rocky outgrowths. Before long we were seeing billboards imploring us to ‘visit’ SeaWorld.
“Friends?” Boris inquired in an overblown British accent, holding his chin like a thinker. “Might there be any interest in visiting the alter for and expression of our peculiar mammalian pride, wrought as it has been in the great fiery quest to overcome marine life and tame it for our amusement?” he asked in a single gasping breath as his lanky legs jittered epileptically, pounding the car’s floor mat like a ritualistic drum beat.
“Nah, fuck that,” said Justin. Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 2
I know you won’t believe me if you look back and read this, but I swear it felt like there was nothing else for us to do. It all began on a Friday afternoon. I had just taken my final college exam. So had Arnold, my roommate and best buddy.
“John, can you believe it?” he asked as we walked back to our apartment. “We’re fucking done man! Fucking done! Ahhhhhhh,” he squealed excitedly, shaking my shoulders and looking to the heavens with gratitude.
“I know! It’s un-fucking-believable!” I cried.
“What should we do to celebrate?” he asked.
That question was answered when we entered our apartment. Boris, our other roommate, was waiting for us with a freshly loaded bong and a cold case of Coronas.
“Boys,” said Boris dramatically when we entered. The lights were dimmed and classical music was blaring from the speaker. “Welcome to the post-graduate lair. Tomorrow, it’s San Diego for Senior Week. Tonight, it’s this apartment – a boy’s night out! Not out out, of course. We’re gonna stay in and get absolutely fucked, and I’ll have no protestations to the contrary. I’ve talked to people – of course, of course – and everyone’s playing it easy tonight. So fuck it, we’ll make our own party! Now, enough explanations. Somebody hit this fucking bong, I just smoked a bowl all by myself.” Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter One