“Don’t give me that bullshit!” – 7 May 2014

Not yet even having recovered from the previous weekend’s shenanigans, I got a surprise visit from Gab and Will in the night. We were in for another night of crazy triking. We started off with some of the usual hills, and then decided to go a little more hard.

 

We went to the Ventura High School parking lot, where there was this awesome slope with speed bumps on it. We didn’t expect what we found on top of that parking lot slope; There were like three cars full of people parked up there just hanging out. Two guys came over to chat with us. They saw our trike skills and were pretty impressed. Gabin tried to wow them by going down this rocky hill like an idiot.

 

As we were talking with these two guys, who turned out to be juniors at VHS, two of the parked cars (full of girls) turned on and left. Gavin tried to chase after one of the cars on the trike, and almost faceplanted right into the back of it.

 

The two juniors left shortly after in the last car.

 

Observing the situation after they were all gone, we all agreed “those two guys totally fucking cock blocked us…”

 

So we each triked down the slope a few times, and we got some gnarly air when going off the bumps. Gabin had the idea that we should set up some traffic cylinders for him to drift around at the end of the slope. We set up four and a trashcan too, but inside the trashcan I found a dirty towel. I waited at the end of the slope, before the obstacles we’d set up, and hid the towel behind a ledge. When Gab was coming down, I tossed the towel into his path. He drove right into it, and it covered his face. He ran right into one of the traffic cylinders and nearly flipped over.

 

I made sure to announce definitively “you just got FUCKED!” so he would be well aware.

 

We hung around the VHS parking lot a while, and tried on all of Nick’s cholo clothes that were in Gab’s trunk. Will was in Nick’s red cholo jacket, while Gabin was in Nick’s blue cholo jacket. We must have looked pretty shady standing there and drifting around on the trike, because another car entered, did a few donuts, and promptly left.

 

After that, we decided to take our party to the big, dark parking structure of the pacific view mall. The winding structure provided a perfect course for high speed drifting. There was only one problem: the structure was full of homeless. Will volunteered to go first, and I could see the dirty faces of the homeless watching us from the shadows.

 

“Will,” I warned him, “you are about to get beat the fuck up and mugged by ALL of these hobos!”

 

“What? What hobos, I don’t see any!”

 

“Dude they’re right there, and they’re about to come over and fuck you up!”

 

He decided to proceed with the course anyway, and down he went, into the dark belly of the structure. We followed him in the car, headlights illuminating our way, but there was no way we could have saved him. After descending down one or two floors, he was grabbed from the shadows and dragged into the hobo lair, perhaps to be eaten or sacrificed. We saw the hobos’ glowing eyes in the darkness, and knew it was all over for Will…

 

The three of us decided it was a good time to play some pool at this really sus place Styx. We pulled up, reveled in how sus we looked, and susly entered the building through the back door. We got a table and started having at it.

 

Gavin knocked one of the balls off of the table and under some really big, tough-looking guy’s feet. Everyone in the room could tell that we were total amateurs. The guy picked up the ball and handed it to Gavin. Gab came back to the table with his tail between his legs and stated “I really had no idea what to say to that guy.”

 

Sometime during the playing, we noted that a few tables over, at the end of the row, there was the legendary Skateboard Girl. At first, I wasn’t even sure it was her, but after hearing her voice, I knew it was. She looked a lot different. She lost the hoodie and skateboard in favor of a beanie.

 

We kept egging each other on to go talk to her, but no one had the courage to do it. We waited until she was about to leave, and Gab decided to call out “hey Skateboard Girl!”

 

Will disappeared immediately. Skateboard Girl stopped in her tracks, recognizing her old code name. She came over and we had a little reunion with her. She questioned us about the time that ‘I’ (actually Gab) called her, saying she knew that it wasn’t actually me.

 

Skateboard Girl left and Will came out of hiding, so the three of us went over to Jack in the Box, to see if we would find Hooker Girl working Thompson again, (we saw her there the previous weekend). To our surprise, we ended up running into Skateboard Girl again instead. We saw her in JITB and parked right next to the car we thought was hers.

 

Inside, we got some tacos and sat within ear shot of her, listening to some very saucy conversation.

 

We went over to Victoria to have one last trike trip for the night. This was going to be our most dangerous course yet, because Victoria was both steep and long. We drove all the way to the top, and Gabin prepared the trike the sidewalk, while we waited next to him in the car.

 

Suddenly, I saw the po-po approaching from Foothill Rd.

 

“Cops, cops, cops, cops, cops, cops!” I stammered at the others.

 

“Just, just drive down Victoria like you’re just driving,” Gavin advised.

 

I put Gabin’s car in drive and started going, it was obvious from the start that the cop was following me like a predator.

 

I tried to drive as cautiously and inconspicuously as possible. “Make sure you’re going the speed limit, make sure you’re going the speed limit!” Will warned from the passenger seat.

 

The cop was right on my ass. I flicked on the signal, and made a right turn on to telegraph. He didn’t let up an inch. I drove along telegraph, my heart pounding. I took deep breaths, and reminded myself how insignificant a situation like this really was.

 

“Dude I really hope we don’t get in trouble and get a ticket in Gavin’s car,” Will noted.

 

“We better not get in fucking trouble, or I’ll personally hand Gavin his own ass.”

 

I signaled again and turned down a side street. This time, right as I got around the corner, the cop turned on the red and blue, so I pulled over next to a house. I tried to remember watching Cops, and what the best thing was for me to do. I placed my hands on the steering wheel and waited. The cop came over to the window, and I rolled it down.

 

“Turn it off!” He demanded, I turned the key.

 

“What were you all doing out here?” he asked.

 

I didn’t attempt to sugar coat it, “we were… how you say… tricycle racing down some hills around here.”

 

“Tricycling huh… can I see your license?”

 

I handed it to him. He asked for Will’s too. Will offered him a school ID instead, to which he said “don’t bother,” and walked away.

 

We sat there for a few minutes, I tried to watch him from the mirror, but the lights back there were still on and too bright.

 

He came back to talk to us some more and handed me back my license. He asked me if I still lived at my address, and noted that it was a good sign I was near my own neighborhood.

 

“So what, you saw the cops coming and your friend told you to scram?”

 

“Nah man, we-” Will tried to say from the passenger seat.

 

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” the cop snapped at Will. The cop liked me because I was white; Will was also white, but he looked like a total cholo, due to Nick’s cholo jacket, which Will was still wearing.

 

I explained to him that Gabo suggested we just strolled down Victoria to make it look casual.

 

“Is Gavin the one back there on the trike?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

The cop explained to us about how cars on the road might not see the trike and cause an accident, and we explained that we had a system in place with our tailing car to warn the rider of any other approaching cars. He then told us that we needed a light on it to have it out this late at night, and we explained that there was a light attached to it.

 

“Who’s wallet is that?” he pointed into the car.

 

“This one?” I pointed to mine, sitting on my lap.

 

“No.”

 

“This one?” I saw the one he was pointing at, stashed on the side under the steering wheel.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I think that one’s Gavin’s.”

 

“Can I see it, to make sure that Gavin isn’t an axe murderer or anything?”

 

I handed him the wallet. He took the ID out and gave the rest back, before heading to his car.

 

He came back a few minutes later and said “look, I’m going to forget I saw this, if you go back, pick up your friend and everything, and leave. You’re done. I don’t mean forever, but for tonight. That sound good?”

 

“Yeah, for sure!” I assured him, and he left.

 

We waited until he drove away, and went back for Gavin. We couldn’t find him up at the top of the hill, so we went searching between there and his house. We found him at the corner of Telegraph and Victoria, and Will rolled down the window, explaining to him what had happened.

 

“Tell him to get in here with the trike quick!” I instructed Will.

 

“Dude get that shit in here before he comes back and tickets us!” Will instructed Gavin.

 

Gavin scrambled to open the back door and shove the trike into it, before climbing in himself. We decided that night would be the last bit of triking we did… at least for a couple weeks.

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Hooker Girl, The Legend Continues – 3 May 2014

That Saturday night started like any other would. Me, chilling in my room, when I find Gabin and Charles enter the scene. They start telling me about a weird tricycle that Gab made, and how it could coast down hills at considerable speeds, and even drift like a car.

 

So we set off in Charles’ beaner truck, and drove toward Nick’s house. We got there to find an eerie sight: Nick’s front door was wide open. We tried to peer through, to see if anyone was home, but could not see anyone. We went around the back and into his house, but we could not hear anyone either. Deciding that the situation was a little too spooky for us, we left.

 

So we drove around the neighborhoods at the base of the hills and found some nicely sloped streets. As we were going around, I noticed that Charles had a tan-colored squirrel stuffed animal hanging from his mirror with a huge fluffy tail, and a fake mustache stuck on it.

 

“What is this shit supposed to be, Totoro?” I asked, tapping the squirrel.

 

“I got this at the zoo, I like it,” he explained. His story seemed to check out.

 

I was the first one to ride the trike, and it went way faster than I anticipated. I had to hold on super tight, and it made my hands sore afterward.

 

Gabin went down the biggest hill, next to Nick’s dad’s house, and afterward said he had almost been attacked by a dog. (I didn’t see any dog, he’s probably full of shit.)

 

When it was Charles’ turn to go down a hill, I came up with a dastardly plan.

 

“When he comes back up, toss this firework at him!” I told Gabo.

 

“Alright, I’ll hide in the bed of the truck, and you tell me when he’s close.”

 

Charles was taking his damn sweet time coming back up and Gabin kept asking “is he here yet? Is he coming? I’m going to pop up and he’s going to be too close or something.”

 

I gave him a countdown from five to quiet him down, but when I hit ‘zero,’ Charles was still across the street. Gavin popped out of the bed of the truck, lit the firework, and tossed it. It made decent range and landed near Charles, but what would you know, it just burnt out. What else could you expect from cheap Mexican fireworks?

 

We were getting pretty hungry, so we decided to take a trip to Jack in the Box. We pulled into the parking lot, parked, and started to head in. Gavin took Charles’ stuffed squirrel and placed it on the front of his pants so that the squirrel’s tail resembled a furry wiener. He then proceeded to chase Charles and me around with the squirrel-tail wiener.

 

Me and Gab decided to get the Blazin’ Chicken Sandwich, which was supposedly the spiciest thing on the menu, containing ghost pepper sauce and jalapenos. Charles, keeping true to his adopted Hispanic heritage, got some tacos. The sandwich was surprisingly good, and not as hot as the hype made it out to be, (it did, however, wreck my insides the next day).

 

We saw this extremely attractive, redheaded, very young lady outside walk into the restaurant with a slight limp. She had long hair, a figure-hugging black outfit with a tight, short skirt, and dark nylons. Her face looked rather innocent. Her legs drew my gaze quickly and kept it.

 

Charles recognized her almost immediately as someone he went to high school with. Her appearance and unique walk, along with the street we were currently on, (Thompson Blvd, a street notorious for prostitutes), led us to give her the pseudonym Hooker Girl.

 

Gavin recalled how surprising it was for the girl to end up in the lifestyle we assumed she had, as he remembered her to be one of the smart ones. Charles rebuked him, and recalled more confidently that she was actually part of the druggie group in high school. One thing we agreed on was the she did not look particularly ‘worn-in,’ the common look for people of her perceived profession, therefore this must have been her first year doing it.

 

After we were done there, we unwound at Gabo’s house with some root beer around a fire pit, and reminisced about the day, and the further past. Just as the fire in that pit burned so long as we were there to add wood to it, so shall the legend of Hooker Girl survive, as long as we are there to recall it.

“Do NOT let them in, that’s the killer!” – 16 Apr 2014

In the weeks prior to April 16, I had noticed signs on a few doors around campus, telling of a coming lockdown drill on the day at 10:00 AM.

 

I came into class, and my calculus teacher confirmed that we would be having a drill that day. I had arrived about 15 minutes early, and I was the first person in class. The teacher explained that since class started at 10:00 AM, those that would be late would end up locked out for the duration of the drill.

 

Well 10:00 came and there were about 90% of the students in the class. The teacher wrote a note for everyone that came after to take cover somewhere else, and stuck the note on the outside of the door before locking it.

 

The class then all moved to the wall parallel to the door, and turned out the lights, so if anyone looked into the window on the door, it would look like the class was empty.

 

Most of the class was standing against the wall, but by the time I got to it, there was no space left, so I sat on top of an adjacent desk, out of view of the door window. The teacher sat next to me on the desk, and we all got real quiet.

 

The teacher informed us that he, and we, should receive a text message from the front office when the drill was over, and that people would be coming around to check if the doors were locked in the next few minutes.

 

We all waited for a few minutes. There was sporadic whispered chatting, and occasionally the teacher would hush the crowd when the noise level got too high.

 

Suddenly, the door handle started to wiggle. We immediately grew deathly silent, and watched the handle carefully. It jiggled again, and again, and then stopped.

 

We lingered in the darkness, pressed against the wall for a few more minutes; the teacher looked at his watch.

 

“Is this thing supposed to be over already? It’s supposed to go for ten minutes, but I didn’t get the ‘all clear’ text yet. Look in the other room, are they still waiting?”

 

One of the students near the corner looked through the door that connected our room to the adjacent classroom.

 

“Yeah, they are still hiding in there.”

 

“Well, I guess we’ll just hide as long as they do.”

 

After a short period, we heard a soft tapping at the door, and the handle wiggled like before. The tapping turned into a persistent knocking.

 

“Is that one of the students?” the teacher asked.

 

I, sitting right next to him, explained “students would definitely not be knocking that fervently, that is definitely the ‘shooter’ trying to trick us so we’ll open the door.”

 

We heard a voice from outside the door moan “open the door, come on, the lockdown is over.”

 

“Do NOT let them in, that’s the killer!” I advised the teacher in a hushed voice.

He listened, and we continued to hide. The minutes ticked on, and he got impatient.

 

“You know what? They said it was only supposed to be ten minutes, we got to get on with class, they should have sent the text by now.”

 

He got up and opened the classroom door. Three or four students came in, and saw the majority of the class huddled against the wall.

 

“Oh, so THAT’S where you all were!” one of the entering students said. We chucked at him.

 

We all went back to our seats, and the teacher checked his phone, before announcing “oh, I just got the text.”

Darkness on Missed Opportunities – 13 September 2013

As it approaches midnight, the events of my recent life play back in my head. A sense of deep melancholy and regret keeps periodically washing over me like a night’s tide. If I had to sum up the problem in a few words, I might use “love problems” or “loneliness.” These wouldn’t be accurate to what plagues me, however, so I’ll explain what I mean.

 

If you’ve read my writings for a few years already, you know that even while in high school, I felt hopelessly helpless against time’s ravenous drain. Every day I feel like I have missed out on some experience that I am supposed to have. These feelings of unknown lost life experiences pile up fast, like my calculus homework; and, also like calculus homework, once a person gets too far behind, it is impossible to catch up, even if one were to use every free second they have at maximum efficiency. One area of life that I feel I’ve not experienced enough is love, or even one of its cheaper imitations.

 

Everyone knows by now that I like to joke how my real college major is “picking up chicks.” It may be hard to believe, but even a hero of the proletariat such as myself can find this subject difficult. Read any of my crush stories, and you’ll see just how much of a train wreck I can be if I put my mind to it. This isn’t the part that saddens me, however. If I try at something and fail, I see that as something in life that’s out of my control, and I count the experience as having been had. In other words, even if my maximum capacity is low, as long as I’m at that maximum capacity, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything that I should have had.

 

Now for how this relates to love (or simple attraction if you prefer)… When it comes to girls, I don’t consider myself a picky person. Sure I have my favorite types of people and styles, but I’d actually be very happy with any of about 85% of the girls in my age group. It’s not the girls I can and can’t get by personally trying that depresses me, but the ones who try to get me, whom I accidentally snub. These are girls with whom I wouldn’t have to deal with ambiguity, it’d already be a grantee that they want a date, or at the very least a friendship. If I could just watch myself in the third person and order myself around like a video game character, I’d be friends with the whole world by now. I’m friendly as fuck. I consider myself to be an extremely shy extrovert, if that makes sense. I want to talk to people, I love to talk to people, I just somehow can’t; especially not at normal human speeds.

 

If you know me, you know I am a big animal person. I especially like cats. Some people say that cats are cold, solitary creatures, but that’s never been my experience. In my experience, cats just like to find a nice person and smash their face into him or her. They love to be touched and just to be close to people. There are no formalities with a cat. You don’t need to introduce yourself, make a good impression, or even have any excuse whatsoever to interact. It’s just “I see you, you see me, you look fuzzy, now we’re embracing.” Can you imagine what life would be like if all the social etiquette and pressure were taken out of human interaction? As fate would have it, I’m actually very allergic to cats, so there’s a wrench right in the middle of my life… I’m getting off topic.

 

So as a cat lover, I have this shirt with a big kitten face on it. I find that whenever I wear it, it always seems to attract the attention of the fellow animal lovers in my community, and we tend to get along well. I was walking home from school one day when a car pulled up next to me. It was a real nice lady I used to know from church, asking if I wanted a ride. It didn’t really matter to me, but I accepted politely. I opened the back passenger door, tossed my backpack inside, and stuck one foot in. That’s when I heard the voice of a young female calling, “Heey, heeey!”

 

I looked up and saw these two cute girls around my age sitting at a bus stop bench maybe 20 meters ahead. They were waving and yelling “we like your shirt!”

 

I didn’t know what to do; what could I do? I wanted nothing more in the world than to go over, sit with them, and chat a while. They wanted to compliment me, saw I was about to leave, and took it upon themselves to call out just so I’d know their praise before I left. These were quirky, friendly people that I’d quite obviously get along with very well. I was already halfway in the car, and my backpack was resting on the back seat, I couldn’t just take it out and say “actually no thanks, I want to go over here and meet these girls instead.” I didn’t think I even had the voice to call back to them, so I just ended up giving them a distant thumbs-up and climbing in the car. I could only try to get a fast glimpse of their faces as we drove past. I beat myself up over that incident for weeks, thinking about what I could have done differently.

 

This is where it gets a tad pathetic. Once I got home, I thought about walking halfway back to school to see if they’d still be there. I decided not to, but I checked the time, and subtracted a few minutes to estimate the time that I had seen them. In the following weeks, I tried to leave school at precisely the time it would take for me to pass that bus stop at the same time that I saw the girls that one day, even trying to wear the same shirt as often as possible on the off chance that I’d see them again.

 

During the first month or two of each semester, my college requires students trying to use the computer lab to get a code from the front desk, and get assigned to a specific computer. This is so they can track how many students are using the computers, and they can get funding. So just yesterday I was assigned to a computer that a guy was already at. I asked him if he was using it, and he said something was wrong with it. This girl next to him turned around and asked me “what computer did you get?”

 

I showed her the number on my card, and she said that this was a strange situation. The guy on my assigned computer got up to go get a different computer/code, and I just shut down and powered back on the malfunctioning computer to get it working again. I sat down next to this girl and started some homework. After an hour or two she got up to leave, but she turned to face me first.

 

“What does your wristband say?” I heard from next to me. I panicked at the question because usually I don’t expect any interaction, especially in the lab, so it caught me off guard. It took me a second or two to even decipher the words she said, as I looked back and forth. She lightly grabbed the wristband on my left hand and rotated it so she could read the words.

 

“Waffles? You love Waffles?”

 

“For sure, every single day!” I was now in interaction mode. My definite answer may have even startled her a little.

 

She smiled at my response. “So you’re one of the people who actually follows what’s on their wristbands.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“What was your name again?” She held out her hand.

 

“Again…?” I thought, “I don’t remember telling her my name in the first place… do I know her from somewhere? Is she in one of my classes? I can’t think too long or it will delay my response and make for an awkward silence, best to just say it.”

 

“Robert.” I answered, shaking her hand.

 

“I’m Annalise,”

 

“Annalise,” I repeated, to make sure I got it right.

 

She nodded. “Your hair looks very good in that color!”

 

I had colored my hair black about a week prior, but I had no idea how she knew that. Maybe she saw a bit of hair a different color than the rest, and came to the conclusion that it was dyed, or maybe she really was from some class of mine. I tried to search my memory to find out where I knew her from, but another awkward silence was approaching, and I couldn’t let that happen, so I said the first stalling phrase I could think of.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you around.”

 

“Yeah, see you.”

 

I analyzed that one interaction for the rest of the day and night. I still couldn’t figure out if I really did know her from somewhere, but I came to one definite conclusion: my short and concise answers probably made me come across as uninterested, the exact opposite of what I wanted to portray. This girl was trying to get to know me, and I may have acted vain or antisocial, and I know exactly how it feels to be on the other side of that interaction.

 

Just hours ago, I was walking home from school, when I crossed a group or teens sitting on the grass in front of McDonalds. There were two males and two females. It was about a half hour after the nearby high school normally ended, so they were most likely from there. As I was passing, I heard one of the girls exclaim “you’re really cute!”

These girls could have easily been ones that I would ask for a phone number if I wasn’t so afraid of being rejected, but this was an open invitation, rejection wasn’t even a possibility in this case, interest was already a given, so I had nothing to fear. Once again I wasn’t expecting interaction, however, so it took me a few seconds to get into interaction mode, and while I was transitioning, I was still in mindless walk mode, so I just kept going as if I hadn’t heard anything. By the time I was conscious enough to turn around, I was ten meters away, and the group was already talking about something else.

 

I realize that it must have looked like I was ignoring the girl when I didn’t say anything or even look. Maybe she assumed that I was one of those popular people who was already used to being constantly praised. It’s almost time for bed and I’m still feeling down about this. It does make me feel a little better to write about it though, with the knowledge that my experience will be shared.

My Middle School Shoplifting Spree

A lot of people will assume that just because a person is quiet and unassuming, that they must be tame, and without degenerate tendencies. That’s not always the case… especially concerning myself. One particular period that comes to mind was my long, intense, shoplifting spree during my middle school years.

 

The group of closest friends I had at the time were probably the leading cause of my streak… but I surely didn’t have any objections either. We were like a well-organized thief squadron, we knew exactly what to do. We could walk into any place of business and within 10 seconds have mapped out mentally all the locations covered by cameras, where the employees traveled, locations of customer concentration, best entrances and exits, dark spots, you name it. Well rehearsed and professional in our continence, we decided what we wanted, and we took it, just like that. Usually we picked out things from one isle, brought them to a more secluded place, usually a less popular aisle or a bathroom, and stuffed them in one of our backpacks. We had pre-designated roles such as mules, lookouts, hands. Sometimes we’d buy something small at the same time, to make it look like we were legitimately patronizing the place. I was pretty timid, more so than the others, at least; this meant that I usually got placed in one of the less risky jobs, such as the lookout.

 

You may question how I could just do this without remorse… but you have to understand my background. I’ve always been a lower class kid, I lived a life of “doing without.” To suddenly be able to enjoy Lunchables, candy, cookies, and all those fancy drinks, sodas, Powerade, whenever my heart contented, it was an amazing feeling. Lunchables were probably our most common steal. Me and my buds would each pick our favorites, stuff them in a backpack, and then walk into the alley behind the local supermarket and tear them open. My choice was always pizza. Sitting back there eating that little processed meal, laughing with my friends about who almost saw us and our quick reaction times, it was really one of the most fun times in my life. It was like we were some heist team from the movies. I remember this one time clearly when I told a friend about these candy dreidels I learned to make, with pretzels, marshmallows, frosting, and Hershey kisses. Just like that he said, “great, lets go make some!” Just a few minutes, in and out of the store, and we were making what I’d described, on the playground of the local elementary school that we’d often hang out at on weekends.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to justify what I did or what I was like, all I’m saying is that it wasn’t out of malice.

“That’s what’s up!”

When I was in high school, I used to love to say the phrase “that’s what’s up!” Whenever I said it, I would always fervently knock on the nearest hard surface to add emphasis.

 

I had this Spanish class in my last two years of high school, and in this class I had a peculiar friend. He was very outgoing, and usually wore sunglasses. The thing the two of us had in common, was that we both regularly attended massive rave parties. After each weekend, he’d ask me which rave I’d been to that weekend, and how I liked it. We’d trade stories and experiences. He’d often refer to me as his “dope rave buddy.”

 

One day, I was leaning over his desk, listening to a particularly fascinating rave tale about the previous weekend. I don’t even remember what it was about, but it was something intense. At the end, I was so fired up, I exclaimed “that’s what’s up!” and started smashing on his desk. I didn’t realize it at first, but I accidentally picked the exact spot that his sunglasses were resting on to start hitting, and I ended up crushing his sunglasses into a crumpled heap on the desk.

 

When I saw my mistake, I didn’t know what to do, so I put on the straightest face I could, turned around, and walked away slowly. Coincidentally, that’s the day I decided to get a new catchphrase.

“Is that sign over there Nick?” – 11 Apr 2014

It was an average Friday night, nothing special, until Will came into my room saying something about a party at Nicks. Apparently, Jake was in town and everyone was gathering at Nick’s to celebrate. Well I am known to party fuckin’ hardy, in fact, I’m a fuckin’ party monster, so I jumped at the chance, and Will and I set out for Nick’s house.

 

We got there to find Jake, Kyle, Jimmy, and Sean. Everyone was partying at Nick’s house except for Nick, who was working at his little animal hospital. We ended up playing this super hardcore game called Rayman Legends. It is supposed to be like a children’s game, but it was super super hardcore; it was extremely difficult and everything went so fast. I was playing at this blue guy with a big Jew nose and a Matrix-style trench coat.

 

Late at night, it was time to pick up Nick, and we all hoped in Jake’s car, with me in the driver seat. We went cruisin’ down the street toward this big industrial area where Nick worked.

 

On the way there, there was this random ass traffic cylinder overturned in the middle of the street. I almost ran right over it, but I swerved around and barely missed it.

Everyone was all “woah what the fuck! WOAAAAAAH!”

 

I was lucky that the street was empty at that time.

 

When we made it to the industrial park where Nick worked, we started circling around looking for him while trying to talk to him on the phone.

 

“Nick, get your ass out here and stand in the middle of the street so we can find you!” Jimmy said into his cell.

 

It was hard to see anything in the black of night, and all the buildings looked the same, so it was hard to discern which one was the hospital. Suddenly Jimmy asked “is that Nick right there?”

 

“Where?”

 

I peered ahead.

 

“Standing right there!”

 

I peeled my eyes in the direction he was pointing.

 

“Dude, that’s a sign.” Jake corrected him.

 

We drove in a circle about three more times, and I thought for a second that I saw Nick standing right there on the street.

 

“Oh look, there he is right there!”

 

“Dude that’s the same sign from before.”

 

“Oh…”

 

We finally found the place where Nick worked and picked him up in the parking lot. Then, it was decided that we would all go to Jack in the Box.

 

We went through the drive-thru and got started ordering. We got some tacos and a cheeseburger, and they asked “yo Rob, do you want anything?”

 

“Yeah, a chocolate-vanilla mixed shake,” I told them.

 

Jimmy leaned towards the speaker, “can we get a medium chocolate vanilla mixed milkshake?”

 

“You want two small Oreo shakes?”

 

We all looked at each other confused.

 

“No, we want one shake, that is chocolate and vanilla mixed. Do you do that, with the chocolate and vanilla?”

 

“Yes we use vanilla to make the chocolate.”

 

“What? Nooooo! Put some vanilla in the shake, and some chocolate in there too, and MIX THEM BOTH TOGETHER!”

 

We ended up finally getting everything we wanted, and we were back on the road. I was going 35mph on a 45 road, so Jake said “hey Rob, go 45 here.”

 

I slammed on the gas and the car lunged forward. I heard Jake in the back laughing and yelling “AAAAWH NOOOOO!”

 

I later found out that the acceleration had caused him to spill tea, and beans from his taco all over his pants.

 

When we were approaching Nick’s house, we made a U-turn on the street, and started going forward towards the curb parallel to the house. We noticed a homeless-looking man of massive stature coming right at the front of the car. Lit up by the headlights, he looked like he came straight out of a horror movie.

 

I started backing up to align the car parallel to the curb, which only elongated the time he was directly in front of the car, making a b-line toward the center of it.

 

“What the fuck…” I murmured, wondering where the guy had come from, and why he was heading directly at the car.

 

“Lock the doors Robert, lock the doors quick!” Jake stammered in a panic.

 

“I don’t know where the lock button is,” I said as I fumbled in the darkness. It was too late already, the man was at the front of the car. We all held our breath, as he walked around the car at the last second, and off into the darkness. We breathed a collective sigh of relief, turned off the car, and got out. We could hear the homeless man yelling something off in the distance, we couldn’t discern whether it was directed at us, or someone else.

 

We touched base back at Nick’s house, picked up the rest of the Boyos in a second car, and headed over to WinCo. In there, we got some jalapeno-flavored corn dogs, and some waffle fries. We also stumbled across legit whole pig legs, and had a badass sword fight with the pig legs, using the hooves as handles. One of the WinCo employees walked by our fight, saw us, and just kept on walking. He was having NOTHING to do with it, he just had this look on his face like “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

 

After we were done there, we went back to Nick’s place for the night. Kyle brought over a cheeseburger flavored pizza with some spicy-ass peppers on it, and another pizza made entirely into cheesy sticks.

 

At 3AM, Jimmy and I were feeling a little restless, so we headed to the park to light some fireworks. We lit a smoke bomb, and a few flowers in the sand. Suddenly I heard Jimmy say “there’s the cops!”

 

I turned around, and sure enough, there was a police cruiser turning the corner, heading parallel to the park. We both instinctively took off running on the grass back towards Nick’s house. About halfway down the field I noticed that the headlights were about to catch us, so I snapped “hit the deck!”

 

We fell flat forward, and sprawled out on the cold, night grass. Like a tide, the headlights crept over us, and then on along the field. My heart pounding, I watched until the cruiser was out of sight, and we got up.

 

“That was waaay too close,” I joked as we navigated the deserted streets back to Nick’s.

 

When we returned, we found Kyle already sleeping, but Jake, Will, and Nick were still somewhat awake, so we decided to pull a little prank on Kyle. We got out the camcorder, activated a fart bomb, and I set it right next to Kyle’s face.

 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!!” we all repeated, as the fart bomb expanded and filled with gas.

 

POP!

 

We all sat there with anticipation, awaiting Kyle’s reaction. He didn’t move for at least five seconds, before casually turning his head in the other direction.

 

“Kyle just got fucked uuuuuuup!” we all concluded proudly.

 

We ended up tossing another bomb at his face, a fruit one this time. He reacted even less than he did to the first one.

 

I ended up sleeping out on the living room couch, while everyone else slept in Nick’s small, cramped room. Jake was on the long end of the couch in Nick’s room, while Jimmy was on the small part of it perpendicular to Jake’s feet. The rest of them were in odd positions on Nick’s floor. I think I got the best spot that night as far as sleeping arrangements went.

 

The following morning I was awoken by Nick’s tiny dog Levi licking my face like it was covered in steak sauce.

 

We spent the first half of the day playing this crazy game Titanfall, which was pretty extreme.

 

Late at night, someone got the idea that we should all go hiking at Arroyo Verde Park.

 

We pulled up in Kyle’s car, sat there in the darkness for a minute, and then realized that we were all very hungry.

 

From the front I heard someone ask “has anyone even eaten anything?”

 

I was sitting in the center back seat between Jake and Will. I looked back and forth at them. None of us had eaten anything. We decided to make a quick stop at Fresh n Easy before we went on our night hike.

 

We wondered around the aisles inside Fresh n Easy without any idea as to what we were getting.

 

We came across a wall of protein bars, and decided to get some of those. There were too many to compare, so I just chose a random chocolate one.

 

So we were finally ready, we had our assorted protein bars, frosted animal crackers, and various nuts. We were munching and tossing around everything in the car, and we made it back to the park.

 

As we were heading into the park, on a long dirt trail, the darkness swirled around us, making it harder and harder to see.

 

“Guys,” I addressed the group, “if we hear someone from the bushes say ‘ay honkies,’ I’m pulling out the pocket knife immediately.”

 

“By that time,” Kyle assured me, “I’ll already have been long gone.”

 

We got pretty deep into the park, and ended up stopping at this picnic area on a hill. We chilled for a while, flanked by the various sounds of night. We talked about life and the future. After a time of shooting the breeze, we thought we heard something in the distance. Everyone paused and peered in the direction that we had come from. The trail was still as the night air. I saw a white sign on the trail, and knew that it was my time to shine.

 

“Woah woah woah, you see that, Jimmy?” I asked him.

 

Jimmy looked down the path and tried to focus on where I was pointing.

 

“No, what is it?” He asked.

 

“Holy shit, it’s RIGHT there! It’s so close… You see that sign right there?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I think that sign right there might be Nick.”

 

Nick, who was actually with us at the time, was thoroughly confused.

 

After that we went back to Nick’s, and ended up eating all the waffle fries and corn dogs that we got the previous day.

 

Well I slept over a second night, and when I woke up on the third day, I found Will and Jake in the middle of a marathon of this weird anime Attack on Titan. They watched this entire show non stop for a whole day, it was ridiculous. Steven and Monsantos came over to chill for a little while too. At around 6PM, we finally ended the weekend-long party. That was one weekend that none of us will be soon to forget.