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When the reality of the last week began to hit me, I stopped and wondered at just exactly how far my life had taken me. Last week, had you told me any of this was going to occur, I might have laughed it off, or better yet told you that it was a great story and volunteered to ghost on it. Still, the truth of it is...it happened, and that's something that there's no denying.
Hell, I wouldn't possibly deny it even if I could. Still, it's a rather long story, and whether or not you'll actually be able to bear with me as I relay it all is a subject that's yet to be seen. But I'll start at the beginning, because somebody once said that it's a very good place to start.
When all this got rolling, I was still in high school - a senior, as it was, getting ready to graduate into the oncoming world of college, bills, beer runs, studying, hangovers, and getting laid. Well, maybe trying to get laid. God knows I'd been trying to get laid throughout my entire run of high school and while there'd been opportunities, I think that the women were very...unbalanced. Yeah. Unbalanced would be the opportune word.
Oh, who am I kidding? There weren't any opportunites. I was always hearing about Jack getting some action. Jack was really cool, though - blond hair, kinda long and wavy, sunglasses, letterman jacket, etc. Me? Yeah, well, I'm tall and I write a lot. Not that I'm a nerd or a dork or sit at home every Saturday night watching professional wrestling or anything - there's just a pecking order, and while Jack may just happen to be my best friend, usually when I meet somebody it always seems to be in his company...and that, as they say, is about that. Quarterback of the football team and incidentally my best friend - why he was my best friend is still a mystery, but we can go more into that later, I guess.
Anyway, on the night in question, it was early June - school was letting out in exactly three days. Jack was going to California on some kind of football scholarship - and he was good, there was no denying that. He certainly deserved it. Hell, we were a winning team - with his brawns on the field and my brains at his homework, we got him through high school almost flawlessly. And the girls were kind to him, so if he finally settled down with any one woman, he'd probably have some pretty interesting stories to tell his own teenage kids. That's giving him credit enough to say that he's going to settle down at some point, and while Jack's a great guy, I don't really know if I want to speak for him. But, personality-wise, you'll get the gist of him later on, and you can judge that for yourself. Don't let me tell you anything - hey, you're the reader; I'm just moving this thing forward a bit at a time, right?
Ah - speaking of which, here he comes now. But, let's set up the scene a bit. Here I am, dressed in a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a Van Halen T shirt. Van Halen, I know - it's slightly outdated today, but back in 1983 it was ALL the rage, trust me. So Jack has a Camaro, I'm leaning up against it having a beer, just kinda hanging out with myself, and it's Saturday night, about 11:30 - everybody's hanging out in the middle of a field in what we call "The Towers". The Towers is where the television and radio reception towers are at - it's out of town and fairly secluded, but open enough of a space so that people can get out of their cars, meander around, lounge, loiter, smoke pot, drink beer, have sex, and generally do all of the other things that our parents and the local authorities would frown upon. Such is usually for the makings of a great life. There's a lot of noise, but as I said, Jack's coming up to see me. As is usually the case on outings like these, he has a beer (probably his eighth or ninth of the night, which means I get to drive the Camaro home - whoo hoo! - and he also has two girls with him. One is Charlie, a blond ditz, cheerleader, you know the sort; the other is Rebecca, short, brunette, not a cheerleader but no less of a ditz herself, don't sell her short).
Anyway, Jack's about to speak to me.
(...........to be continued..............)
Hell, I wouldn't possibly deny it even if I could. Still, it's a rather long story, and whether or not you'll actually be able to bear with me as I relay it all is a subject that's yet to be seen. But I'll start at the beginning, because somebody once said that it's a very good place to start.
When all this got rolling, I was still in high school - a senior, as it was, getting ready to graduate into the oncoming world of college, bills, beer runs, studying, hangovers, and getting laid. Well, maybe trying to get laid. God knows I'd been trying to get laid throughout my entire run of high school and while there'd been opportunities, I think that the women were very...unbalanced. Yeah. Unbalanced would be the opportune word.
Oh, who am I kidding? There weren't any opportunites. I was always hearing about Jack getting some action. Jack was really cool, though - blond hair, kinda long and wavy, sunglasses, letterman jacket, etc. Me? Yeah, well, I'm tall and I write a lot. Not that I'm a nerd or a dork or sit at home every Saturday night watching professional wrestling or anything - there's just a pecking order, and while Jack may just happen to be my best friend, usually when I meet somebody it always seems to be in his company...and that, as they say, is about that. Quarterback of the football team and incidentally my best friend - why he was my best friend is still a mystery, but we can go more into that later, I guess.
Anyway, on the night in question, it was early June - school was letting out in exactly three days. Jack was going to California on some kind of football scholarship - and he was good, there was no denying that. He certainly deserved it. Hell, we were a winning team - with his brawns on the field and my brains at his homework, we got him through high school almost flawlessly. And the girls were kind to him, so if he finally settled down with any one woman, he'd probably have some pretty interesting stories to tell his own teenage kids. That's giving him credit enough to say that he's going to settle down at some point, and while Jack's a great guy, I don't really know if I want to speak for him. But, personality-wise, you'll get the gist of him later on, and you can judge that for yourself. Don't let me tell you anything - hey, you're the reader; I'm just moving this thing forward a bit at a time, right?
Ah - speaking of which, here he comes now. But, let's set up the scene a bit. Here I am, dressed in a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a Van Halen T shirt. Van Halen, I know - it's slightly outdated today, but back in 1983 it was ALL the rage, trust me. So Jack has a Camaro, I'm leaning up against it having a beer, just kinda hanging out with myself, and it's Saturday night, about 11:30 - everybody's hanging out in the middle of a field in what we call "The Towers". The Towers is where the television and radio reception towers are at - it's out of town and fairly secluded, but open enough of a space so that people can get out of their cars, meander around, lounge, loiter, smoke pot, drink beer, have sex, and generally do all of the other things that our parents and the local authorities would frown upon. Such is usually for the makings of a great life. There's a lot of noise, but as I said, Jack's coming up to see me. As is usually the case on outings like these, he has a beer (probably his eighth or ninth of the night, which means I get to drive the Camaro home - whoo hoo! - and he also has two girls with him. One is Charlie, a blond ditz, cheerleader, you know the sort; the other is Rebecca, short, brunette, not a cheerleader but no less of a ditz herself, don't sell her short).
Anyway, Jack's about to speak to me.
(...........to be continued..............)
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