Its come to my attention that my writing has become tiresome. The banalities of my day-to-day aren't fit for the internet. So instead, I'll tell a tale from my youth.
Back in high-school, when we had just begun driving (our parents' cars) we drove just for the sake of driving. Near and far, at all hours of the day or night. So long as someone could get a car. Often times we stole them. We played the radio loud and sometimes we drove fast. The newfound freedom of it all encouraged adolescent ingenuity. Competitions were held for who could jump out of a moving vehicle and still hit the ground running, or who could drive the longest without touching the steering wheel. You know, the responsible safe stuff. We were cowboys pushing the limits of our newly inherited metallic horses.
On this particular morning I was enjoying the comfort of my home, without a desire to go anywhere or do anything. My phone started to ring and I answered it. A friend, let's call him Mothman - in an entirely separate story he'd eaten at least a dozen moths just so he could boast the title of Ultimate Master - wished me to join him on a cruise. I told him that I wasn't going anywhere. "C'mon man, I'm already outside your house. It's nice out, let's go for a drive. You know you want toooo," he said. "Dude, next time, call before you come. I'm not going anywhere," I replied and hung up the phone. I was in no mood for his antics, which were often over the top. He called me back immediately. I didn't answer. He called back again. Again, I didn't answer. Another call. Finally, realizing he wouldn't relent until the sun had fallen, I picked up and yelled "What the fuck man?! I told you, I'm not coming out. You always do this shit. Call Nick or Tony." "Bro, I'm here. I want to hang. Don't be a pricky dick. We'll go wherever you want," he said. "What don't you understand? I don't want to go anywhere. I'm chillin," I said. "Ok, what do I have to do? I'll do anything," he pleaded. Shrewdly, he played right to my teenage-boy's penchant for humiliating my friends. I glanced over at my brother, and a sinister smile spread across my face. I motioned at him, pointing at the phone and waving him over to listen. "Ok, you'll do anything? You sure Mothman? Anything," I asked. "Yea, let's see what you got," he said, accepting the challenge. "Climb out of your sunroof naked, without hanging up," I said. The without hanging up part was just a meaningless addition to the terms. My brother cackled and darted toward the window to watch Mothman make a fool of himself. "Hahaha, you bastid. Ok, fine. But if you don't come out after this, I'm going to come up there and beat your ass," he threatened. He asked for my word, the only thing a boy has to bargain with, and I swore. Boyhood was often an investigation into the limitations of propriety. This would prove a hilarious experiment.
From the second floor window my brother and I watched his Volkswagon Jetta bustle and shake like a bush full of birds while he disrobed. Because it was a nice day, the streets were peppered with people, and we were giddy with anticipation for their reaction. Soon, like a newborn baby exiting the womb, his head emerged from the sunroof. With the phone to his ear, he hesitated momentarily as he watched people passing. I saw him speaking into the phone, but I had thrown it aside in disbelief as he began climbing out of the vehicle. I picked it back up and heard him say he didn't believe he was doing this and that if he got arrested it was my ass. I laughed and wished him luck, attacking his resolve with the word pussy. In defiance, with his head cocked sideways to keep the phone stuck to his ear, he pressed his arms into the roof and lifted himself out.
Rolling onto the roof like a dead body, the phone slid from his neck and fell onto the floor breaking into multiple pieces as the battery and its cover scattered across the asphalt. The sound attracted the attention of any onlookers who hadn't already spotted him. As the phone fell he reached for it, shifting his weight awkwardly, which caused him to slide a bit too far down the rear windshield, his skin squeaking against the glass as he went. A little girl screamed and her mother gasped as she took the Lord's name in vain. The commotion was matched only by mine and my brother's laughter. We wiped tears out of our eyes as we watched him scramble for the pieces of the phone. He futilely began to yank the car-door, which he had absent-mindedly locked from the inside. A crowd of shocked people watched, only a few of them laughing. He leapt onto the top of the car and clumsily fell through the sunroof. He had the grace of some fearful prey fleeing a large cat. The car shuddered with shame as he hurriedly got dressed. People began walking towards the car and he sped off down the block. Still gripped by uproarious laughter, my brother and I almost didn't hear the phone ringing. I picked up and heard him panting. Exasperatedly he said "Get the fuck outside now! I'm circling back around the block."
I paused for dramatic effect and said "Mothman, I'm not coming out. You didn't stay on the phone the whole time! Ahhhahaha ahhh ahhahaha hahaha haaaa haaa haaa ahhhhhh!!" He said, "BRO! WHEN I WENT BACK THROUGH THE SUNROOF I FUCKED UP MY DICK!"
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