Senior Week – Chapter 12

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

Senior Week – Chapter 11

The kitchen countertop overflowed with bottles of hard alcohol and unopened bags of red cups. The lunatics flailed their limbs wildly, dancing in the center of the main floor. Two games of beer pong were underway in the room’s corner. The scene in its entirety looked like a facsimile of 48 hours ago. Of course the music – that pervasive thump-thumping – sounded the same. Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 11

Senior Week – Chapter 10

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

Senior Week – Chapter 9 

I woke up early to vomit in the toilet for an hour. As my system cleansed itself, a strange out-of-body sensation overtook me. I was looking down upon and within myself to a chorus of faraway voices squawking sadistically at the sight of the sad primate hunched over a toilet in Mission Beach, San Diego, inexplicably alive. Back in the room everyone was asleep. It was only ten o’clock. I dug through Arnold’s backpack and gobbled up some of his weed brownie crumbs to help with the stomachache. I took a shower and found Ojas on the porch, sitting atop the trusty wicker bench and clutching his temples in a way that reeked of pure misery, not to mention the actual odor of vomit and stale vodka emanating from his person. I offered up a cigarette.  Continue reading Senior Week – Chapter 9 

Senior Week – Chapter 3

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

Senior Week – Chapter 2

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