In summers closing families returned and seniors left for college. It was a crazy fucking thought. The latter because everyone it seemed had a beach house in Madison. Summer homes, I’d shake my head forever focused on the fact this was another conversation my inner city black brethren simply were not apart of.
I’m all smiles and cannot be stopped. I love you Matt.
Walking home “stupid fuck” was my only remorse in regards to Dylan’s debt. He knew I could pay any goon to collect that for $40 and he was on the hook. I fell asleep and woke around four in the afternoon. Tomorrow was a big day and we needed to find the perfect thing to footnote. We drummed up a classic roster, Magic, Me, Monster, Hatty and TR and of course his beloved “Peace Van.” It would be the first night I ever took a bong hit and it was a disaster. It seemed like a great plan. Carmine even lent me his choice glass bong to commemorate the occasion.
I feel asleep and awoke a few hours later and prepared to be scooped by TR Ludwig and the Peace Van. I had placed Carmine’s prized glass bong in Hatty’s trunk and I was hoping they coordinated. “Carl!” The phone was ringing and I confirmed with Hatty my ready status and the fact he had the bong. “Beaver! Of course I have the bong you just gave it to me yesterday” “Yeah well I have ADD, forget allot of shit.” “I know you do.” Carmine was proud to see me as a senior and thought Bong hits at our old middle school was the prefect way to document are one and only 1st day of high school. The only problem was we were violating so many of our golden rules we worked so hard being bad through the years to come up with it made no sense. TR’s “Peace van” was a monstrosity of a vehicle from the early 70’s. It was perfect for us, it had a couple rag tag couches in the back even an old sink, as long as Tick drove we could get fired up all night back in the peace. And fastly there arrived, it was going to be a fast year I thought. “Be home before midnight! School night!” “OK Ma! Love you.” It was great I didn’t even have to lie. “Well good evening Mr. Easton.” “Good evening Mr. Easton.” All patrons of the peace surrender there congenial welcome. I could smell the marijuana from my driveway.
Better leave before my ma smells this peace
Once seated I see Monster already “chalking” bong hits with Hatty, “Let’ S get Magic and take this to Clarke.” “Hit this beaver!” Hatty loved calling me beaver. It stemmed from an oldnick name I gave little Mario in the 1st Super Mario brothers which we like all American youth boy / girl at that time crushed relentlessly. I liked being the smaller more agile Mario, whom I called “little beaver.” Hence Hatty’s address. “Hit it now dude.” Monster the ultimate in high school druggies pronounces to me, the king of peer pressure in a dark voice with smoke it appeared coming out of his ears. Hatty was impressed. “The kid doesn’t stop, he’s already taking six bing bongs! Beaver your up! Come on come on come on.” He’s stuffing the bong in my face. Hatty and Monster were the hockey players of the group. “I’ll wait for Mike and the school.” Of course one of our cardinal rules was “never smoke or drink at schools in Lexington.” Fuzz was always in the mix. “Gentlemen.” Magic says professionally as he enters the back of our beloved Peace Van. And soon we were on our way, “Senior year gentlemen.” We heard from our pilot Tr “Tick” Ludwig to a canvass of smiles and endless possibilities. TR was a six four size 12.5 legit Lacrosse player. It was his hoops ,which he once played but under the Big Guy’s iron curtain. He’d rather not deal with it and picked up something new that became his passion and ticket to college of his choice.
Girls, parties, legendary status, fights, book making, the funeral home, football, money, hoops, loot and ACE. God dam I’m going to murder this year Although if this was any indication senior year could be a disaster see our luck had changed April 3rd, 1993 on a cosmic level. And tonight would start outside of “Goldy’s” shot another reminder that our luck is nowhere what it used to be. Santo I reckoned couldn’t help us with the bad shit only the Holy. “I’d rather be lucky than good.” Yogi Berra We park the peace van in the parking lot and walk up to the front of me and Magic’s famous middle school, Clarke. “Dam we ran stunts here.” I charm to Magic this was our happy spot. “I remember my first day of 6th grade I was in a study hall with Kevin Nolen, I looked at some of the racks also in that study and just thought to myself, fuck I’m in junior high.” He says it like Jerry Rice reflecting on his induction to Canton football hall of fame. And I get it. I think Mike was also apprehensive about the bong hit but we both realized especially with these guys we must. “I’m not going to lie the thing scares me.” I confide to Magic soft enough so Monster, Hatty or Tick the diplomat couldn’t hear. “We’ll be fine.” I could tell he was anxious to get this over with. We walk up the steps, pack the bong and commence one after the other. Mike goes last before me and struggled, coughed crazy and went blotchy. OK now I’m freaking out
Hatty assist Monster in a “double light” as everyone is giving me an array of instructions and information. “Pull harder beaver!” “Pull hard dude” Monster “That a boy.” TR smiling proudly like the emperor when he gets Luke pissed. I can still hear Michael coughing behind me. Finally it’s pulled and my timing is off “More, more!!” Everyone urges. I run out of breath and repeat what Magic just did worse. A little something comes up, I go down and have never been that high that quick. I panic when I’m dizzy. Everyone’s laughing as me and Magic try to get through our first bong hit.
Fucken Monster with the double lighter Jesus Christ
I hear the bubbles go again Monster what’s another, sickening. Suddenly we hear a police siren and a bright light is flashed as everyone falls to the ground to join me and Mike. “”Fuck I’m pretty sure that’s the cops.” Monster states the obvious, I’m just trying to breathe. “Oh my god, we’re in a ton of trouble.” I hear TR bug. Monster does the Vietnam crawl over to me. My equal partner in lack of caring he whispered, “let’s fucking break, get yourself up and follow me, you lead actually.” And I knew he was right. And like that I manage to my feet and we blot out from behind our brick hiding spot. “Freeze!” Freeze means run in another 101 “staying out of trouble.” We dashed in the back woods and a couple piglets chased as we could heat the pitter-patter of their ensuing steps. Once in the woods we’d be tough to catch but we’d also eventually have to come out. Ten minutes later it appeared we dusted them deep in the shitty woods.
All was dark and the sky sounded like a grump. Finally a huge crack is heard and the skies start pouring leaded rain heavily down on our heads. Jurassic Park rain big leafs everywhere and bug sounds. We’re cold and scared and far from out of this. “We’re dead” “No we’re not buddy.” “I don’t know how to get the fuck out of here!” I was out of it. I was having a breakdown thinking about what was happening to my sneakers. The fear had erased some of the high with me and the fear I think made Monster worse. We’ve begun to reason that once we ran we exposed everyone. Only thoughts of the worst kind are entering my psychic domain. The domino effect of panic but Brian I thought was right. “They got arrested. The cops busted them.” He’s beginning to make sense. “They’re all high with pot with Cane’s new glass bong spilling their cookies. They’re down at the station right now squealing on us!” Monster agrees and starts to violently panic walking back and forth with his hands covering his ears growling.
“They gave us up I’m sure of it.” I know it to be true, we’re drenched, still Portland (high) and it was cold. I fall down crying fearing that we’re never going to escape this wretched forest. I’m not doing well. Monster walks up to my chest and grabs my hair “OK, dude we’re going to die.”
An hour later the rains dim in their ferocity and we see a back yard play set! Finally and when we do get out of the woods we realize how close we are to where we were. “I think we’re just out of it.” “Yeah.” Monster says objectionably and with effect. During this time Brian had shared his life story with me. His general pessimism for earth and the amazing fear he has of his father one break down at a time. Once we found the street we’d walk and jump into the bushes anytime we sensed headlights. At that point we figured there was a warrant out for our arrests. The cops that stayed must’ve captured the bong and found our guys all cramped behind the brick wall. Making it back to the roof of our beloved Dunkin Doughout’s, which was easy to get onto in those days I hailed the YG ghetto bird call. “Gah, Gah, Gah!” Soon I hear Tick giving it back. They found us. They were all right. “All the cops chased after me and Monster?” “That’s right” TR says with the grace of god. “Beaver classic move classic move!” Hatty is excited and Magic hours later still looks out of it. It would be our first of man y more to come through the years. “Where’s the bong.” Monster the weed machine asks. “Left it at the school, we had to dude, we just ran to the peace van when we had the chance.” We decided to go back to the school another “no-no.” And as luck would have it there she was. “Wow.” It’s like TR was just blasted out of earths orbit. Hatty insists we smoke what’s remaining and back fully activated we decide our luck is back and spray paint welcoming notes to our crew on the high schools south wall and field house. We loved to spray paint the field house great visibility.
It might have been a great idea maybe even classic. It wasn’t however much fun. When the music’s over, turn off the lights and then go to fucking bed, the day before my senior year in the books.