As a child growing up i had this friend, mike. We had grown up next to each
other, and could always find some way to get our asses in trouble, even before we
started with the booze and drugs. Our theivery was the reason the corner store had
to stop selling playboy and hustler. I remember once, we set this field on fire.
dont ask me why, and im not at liberty to say where or how, but it caused quite a
stir in through the neighborhood we lived in. While i was trying to lay low, mike
shows up at my house, bag of matches in hand, and this shit eating grin on his face.
that was the kind of guy mike was, he could fix almost anything. except his life.
The kind of guy who was always trying to squeze ya for a buck, if you know what i
mean.
It seemed we were always in compitition. Like me he always wanted to be the
life of the party, and always had a story, no matter what the subject. After a
few drunken escapades, he earned the new nickname of "smitiot". Not that i was
much better mind you. anyways, I had been hanging with a different circle of
friends, more popular than mike, and we were all playing football in this kids
backyard one day. well, along comes mike, wanting to get in the game. You know
how kids are at that age, very cruel, and mike wasnt the most popular kid in the
neighborhood. No sooner did he get in the gate than the others started throwing
rocks and yelling obsenities at him. I could see him look at me, waiting for me to
say something to the others, but for some reason, i just couldnt. i stood there,
watching. I felt hanging out with the popular crowd was more important at the time
than helping my friend. but even more, after all those years of freindship,
i felt i had let him down.
That was when i chose popularity over frieindship. Mike never forgave me for
that day, and though we were still friends, i could see in his eyes he still held
a grudge against me for that day, and probably always would. We soon grew apart,
he became the heavy drinking jock, and i became the popular stoner. I began learning
how to manipulate myself in the game. This is not an easy thing to do, you must
always have something to offer everyone. Popularity is like a herion ride until it
stops. I was the guy, the guy you could always go to when you needed something. i
could get anything. moderation was not the key for me. it never has been. I was
always methodical in what i wanted, and would foresee every possible angle ahead of
time. But not everything was that easy. the mistakes i made early on became fatal.
I was about to find that out.
It was a typical friday night. We were all at a party, drinking, smoking,
doing all the things we shouldnt be. I remember a bunch of catholic school girls
showed up to prove they could get down just as well as we could. and indeed they
could. the vibe was great, until old mike showed up to crash the party. I could
see in his eyes he was not there. he was downing jd like it was water. The alcohol
had taken over. thats when it all happened.
For some reason, mike decided to go lay on the couch, problem was, there were
five girls already sitting on it. The girls were none to happy about this, and
started to get a little pissed off. mike seemed not to care about them though, and
continued to harrass them until he was approached by one of the other guys at the
party. The guy asked him politly to stop, but mike took offense. He got this crazy
look in his eye and told the kid to fuck off. The other fellow got off three good
shots to my freinds face. It didnt even phase him. he commenced to place two hard
head butts to the other guys face. It was chaos, there was blood everywhere.
When they were finnally pulled apart, mike went crazy. He left to go to his
car, i knew he was in no condition to drive, so i tried to stop him. it was
pointless, he wasnt listening to anything i said. He jumped in his blue camaro and
sped off like a bat out of hell. That was the last time i seen mike alive.
A few of us jumped in my car to follow him, in hopes we could find some way to
calm him down. He was just driving too fast. 60 in a residential area. I couldnt
risk the lives of the others in the car, so i lost him. as soon as we rounded the
next corner, i saw it. His car had smashed into a tree. The first thing i noticed
was the cracked window and the blood. I screamed for someone to call 911 and ran to
his twisted car. I found him with his face split open. there was no life left in
him. there was my best friend, bloody and broken, and all i could think about was
the day when those kids threw rocks at him. The day i stood there and watched.
The following weeks were very hard. This was my closest freind and neighbor.
the funeral was especially tragic. It was a close casket, for obvious reasons.
The services were attended by hundreds of family and friends. Ill never forget
seeing his mothers eyes. It was the sadest ive ever seen anyone in my life.
To this day, the corner he where he died is called "mikes corner". it stands
as a testament to all that no one is invincable, and drinking and driving kills.
There is still an indenture on the tree, a mark that will be there forever. A mark
that will always remind me of my first lesson in freindship and betrayal.
other, and could always find some way to get our asses in trouble, even before we
started with the booze and drugs. Our theivery was the reason the corner store had
to stop selling playboy and hustler. I remember once, we set this field on fire.
dont ask me why, and im not at liberty to say where or how, but it caused quite a
stir in through the neighborhood we lived in. While i was trying to lay low, mike
shows up at my house, bag of matches in hand, and this shit eating grin on his face.
that was the kind of guy mike was, he could fix almost anything. except his life.
The kind of guy who was always trying to squeze ya for a buck, if you know what i
mean.
It seemed we were always in compitition. Like me he always wanted to be the
life of the party, and always had a story, no matter what the subject. After a
few drunken escapades, he earned the new nickname of "smitiot". Not that i was
much better mind you. anyways, I had been hanging with a different circle of
friends, more popular than mike, and we were all playing football in this kids
backyard one day. well, along comes mike, wanting to get in the game. You know
how kids are at that age, very cruel, and mike wasnt the most popular kid in the
neighborhood. No sooner did he get in the gate than the others started throwing
rocks and yelling obsenities at him. I could see him look at me, waiting for me to
say something to the others, but for some reason, i just couldnt. i stood there,
watching. I felt hanging out with the popular crowd was more important at the time
than helping my friend. but even more, after all those years of freindship,
i felt i had let him down.
That was when i chose popularity over frieindship. Mike never forgave me for
that day, and though we were still friends, i could see in his eyes he still held
a grudge against me for that day, and probably always would. We soon grew apart,
he became the heavy drinking jock, and i became the popular stoner. I began learning
how to manipulate myself in the game. This is not an easy thing to do, you must
always have something to offer everyone. Popularity is like a herion ride until it
stops. I was the guy, the guy you could always go to when you needed something. i
could get anything. moderation was not the key for me. it never has been. I was
always methodical in what i wanted, and would foresee every possible angle ahead of
time. But not everything was that easy. the mistakes i made early on became fatal.
I was about to find that out.
It was a typical friday night. We were all at a party, drinking, smoking,
doing all the things we shouldnt be. I remember a bunch of catholic school girls
showed up to prove they could get down just as well as we could. and indeed they
could. the vibe was great, until old mike showed up to crash the party. I could
see in his eyes he was not there. he was downing jd like it was water. The alcohol
had taken over. thats when it all happened.
For some reason, mike decided to go lay on the couch, problem was, there were
five girls already sitting on it. The girls were none to happy about this, and
started to get a little pissed off. mike seemed not to care about them though, and
continued to harrass them until he was approached by one of the other guys at the
party. The guy asked him politly to stop, but mike took offense. He got this crazy
look in his eye and told the kid to fuck off. The other fellow got off three good
shots to my freinds face. It didnt even phase him. he commenced to place two hard
head butts to the other guys face. It was chaos, there was blood everywhere.
When they were finnally pulled apart, mike went crazy. He left to go to his
car, i knew he was in no condition to drive, so i tried to stop him. it was
pointless, he wasnt listening to anything i said. He jumped in his blue camaro and
sped off like a bat out of hell. That was the last time i seen mike alive.
A few of us jumped in my car to follow him, in hopes we could find some way to
calm him down. He was just driving too fast. 60 in a residential area. I couldnt
risk the lives of the others in the car, so i lost him. as soon as we rounded the
next corner, i saw it. His car had smashed into a tree. The first thing i noticed
was the cracked window and the blood. I screamed for someone to call 911 and ran to
his twisted car. I found him with his face split open. there was no life left in
him. there was my best friend, bloody and broken, and all i could think about was
the day when those kids threw rocks at him. The day i stood there and watched.
The following weeks were very hard. This was my closest freind and neighbor.
the funeral was especially tragic. It was a close casket, for obvious reasons.
The services were attended by hundreds of family and friends. Ill never forget
seeing his mothers eyes. It was the sadest ive ever seen anyone in my life.
To this day, the corner he where he died is called "mikes corner". it stands
as a testament to all that no one is invincable, and drinking and driving kills.
There is still an indenture on the tree, a mark that will be there forever. A mark
that will always remind me of my first lesson in freindship and betrayal.
