Pink Pills and Glorious Weather

2013

When my mother asked me where I was going at 7:30 in the morning on a Monday in August, I told her,

“To Vancouver. To the beach.”

“Why so early?” she yawned, sitting up in bed and noticing the time.

“Cus it takes so long to get there,” I explained.

“What time will you be home?”

“Twelve.” 

She looked at me and raised a suspicious eyebrow. Glancing down, I noticed the contents of my sweater pocket protruding in an odd-shaped bulge, and so casually, not wanting any questions raised, I slipped my hand inside to hide it.

“Okay. Have fun,” she breathed, flopping back onto her pillows with an exhausted flump.

“See yah,” I said, and I left and let her fall back asleep.

I was wearing brand new clothes, which my dad had bought me the day before: solemn black summer shorts and a blue, long-sleeve T-shirt that read VOLCUM in bold white letters. My hair was long enough to cover my forehead and ears, but short enough so that I could just barely see. The bright, pale sky and the early morning heat foreshadowed a brilliant day, and my tinted brown sunglasses, though designed for the female face, were essential.

The bike ride to Devlan’s house was twenty-five minutes, but I did it in fifteen, and the sweat pools under my arms could vouch. I told him to be up by 7:45 so we could leave by 8:30, but when I walked into his bedroom just after 8:00 he was still fast asleep.

Downstairs in the kitchen his Dad was making breakfast and getting ready for work.

“Where are you two off to today?” he asked as I came downstairs to wait for Dev to shower.

“Vancouver,” I replied. “We’re meeting the girls uptown and then taking the bus.” By “the girls” I meant our girlfriends, Emma and Josephine. We frequently used them as a cover story whenever we had to lie to our parents about what we were doing.

“Why so early?” he inquired.

“I dunno. Their idea.”

“Alright. Well, I’m off to the office. You guys need any money?” he offered, as he often did.

“That’s okay, thanks though.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

After his dad left I waited for Dev to shower for another ten minutes while watching the garbage on the family channel. When he finally came downstairs I was nearly asleep on the lazy boy. 

“Should we eat first?” he asked, his hair dripping wet as he hopped the last few steps.

“Yeah. I already did,” I replied, rubbing the grogginess and gunk out of my eyes. 

“I’ll just have a cookie.” He picked one off a plate and took a bite. “Should we do them now?”

“Yeah, probably,” I replied. “We want to be normal by the time we get back.” I reached into my pocket and took out a guilty-looking Ziploc bag. In it were four pills in the shape of Homer Simpson’s head, forty dollars cash, two Captain Black cigars, one perfectly rolled joint, and a bic lighter. “I got our little bag of fun right here,” I said as I laid it on the table before us.

“Dude,” he said, eyes wide and mouth open. “Sick.”

The pills tasted like metal and they burned for a few seconds as they went down. According to the supplier, they’d take two to three hours to fully kick in. And we may puke during the come up.

“Alrighty,” I said, rubbing my hands together, trying to shake out the nerves. “Wanna go?”

“Mhmm,” replied Dev, and we left his house and headed for the bus stop, waiting patiently for this foreign substance to trickle into our blood streams and take over. Hopefully the entertainment would be worth the potential damage.

★ ★ ★ ★

When we got to the bus stop the sun was blinding so I set my sunglasses in place.

“Ah, I need to get sunglasses,” Devlan said, eyeing mine. “Except not girl ones.”

“Shut up,” I said back. “Don’t you have any?”

“No. Can we take a detour to Metrotown so I can get some?”

“I’m pretty sure you can get sunglasses anywhere,” I replied. “We don’t need to go to Metrotown.”

“Yeah, but Metrotown’s so cheap and we don’t have much money. And it’s right on the way.”

“Fine.”

The Surrey Central bus came in under five minutes and we got on.

We arrived at the skytrain station nearly forty-five minutes later. The walk up the massive staircase was a bit of a challenge and a lot of weird-looking people made us laugh. We didn’t feel like paying an additional seventy-five cents each to upgrade our tickets to two-zone passes, so we stole the ride to Metrotown. 

On the skytrain Dev sat down and fiddled with his hair while I challenged myself to a game of standing up with no hands as the train travelled over the city.

“Sit down, idiot,” said Dev finally, embarrassed to be seen with me.

“Fine,” I said happily, and I flopped down onto the seat across from him. At the back of the train there was a huge window and I could see everywhere we’d been.

It was just before ten a.m. when the train pulled into the Metrotown station, and we got off feeling dizzy and scatter-brained, experiencing serious difficulty in controlling our childish laughter. The current of the crowd moved us along a tunneled walkway over the highway and right into the heart of the Metropolis mall. The first thing Devlan wanted to do was go to the washroom and look at his eyes, so we did.

To say the least, unloading my urine into the sparkling ceramic basin of that fancy Metropolis urinal was absolute euphoria. I must have released at least six gallons of piss, and I could not for the life of me control myself from emitting a long series of pleasurable moans; if a blind man had been in the washroom right then, he’d’ve just assumed someone was getting blown by an angel.

After about ten minutes of looking at ourselves in the mirror, laughing and receiving sideways glances from numerous uncomfortable-looking bystanders, we left the washroom and headed to The Bay to look for sunglasses for Dev.

After deciding that The Bay was too expensive, we left in search of a cheaper venue. But before we could even decide on where to look, Devlan started complaining that he needed to sit down, so instead we found a comfortable booth in the food court and rested.

“Eli,” he begged, looking at me with eyes out of focus. “You gotta get me some water. I’ll give you anything – just get me some water. Please.”

“Sure thing, bro,” I agreed, and I stood up. “And just cus I'm a nice guy, you can keep your anything.”

“Thanks, man,” he said, resting his head in his arms on top of the disgusting table.

“Water,” I said. “What kind? Bottle? I don’t think I have enough change, and there’s no way I'm breaking a twenty for a natural resource. I’ll just get you a free cup of water. Hold on.” I started walking towards the sushi counter.

When it was my turn the little Japanese lady working the till looked at me and said, “Herro,” in a small, Asian voice.

“Hi,” I replied. “Can I please have some watah?”

“Bottle?”

“No… uh… cup… cup please.”

She squinted at me and I didn’t know what to do, so I smiled broadly and showed her all my teeth. Rolling her eyes, she placed an empty cup on the counter and then called for the next person in line. I stared at it in disbelief.

“Excuse me,” I said to her after a couple of seconds. She was already talking to the next customer.

“Yes?” she replied impatiently.

“Is, uh, this for me?” I pointed to the cup.
“Yes…”

“But I ordered water,” I explained. There was an awkward pause and I blinked rapidly.

“Yeah,” she said loudly. “Here it is.” She was really getting annoyed.

“But where’s the water?”

She stared at me for a few seconds like I was stupid before answering, “It’s in the cup.”

My jaw dropped. I stood up on my toes and peered into the cup, and sure enough, it was half full. “Oh, right. I didn’t… uh… sorry,” I stammered. “Thank you.” I picked up the cup and walked away, super embarrassed, back to Devlan.

“Dev!” I gasped as I plopped down beside him and inadequately served him his water. “I hate this place. Everyone’s so mean. That little Japanese girl and her little Japanese attitude – she’s a bully. I'm so hurt. I wanna go. Let’s go. I wanna fucking kill her.” I flexed my hands and made a strangling gesture.

“Wait,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “One more thing.”

“Fuck!”

“You gotta get me some sunglasses. Everybody’s staring at me and they know I'm high. Oh, my god. I need sunglasses. I fuckin need sunglasses, man.”

“You’ll get them in Vancouver. Let’s get outa here.”

“No. I can’t move. They’re all staring at me. I need sunglasses first. Then we’ll go, I promise.”

“Dev,” I said, getting really serious. “Let me explain something to you. Sunglasses don’t make you invisible. People can still see you if you’re wearing them. You can’t hide behind sunglasses.” 

“Well,” he said chuckling. “I can’t leave without sunglasses. Let me borrow yours then.”

“Fuck no. I need them.”

“See? So do I.”

“Fine. I’ll get you some,” I said, standing up, looking nervously over at the sushi venue. “Wait here, yeh little whiner,” and I adjusted my frames and began to strut my way through the mall. My hands were in my pockets and I wore a half grin, which I thought was an effective way of informing my fellow shoppers that I was not to be fucked with.

I searched the mall up and down, but I still couldn’t find cheap enough sunglasses. Every store I went in, I’d ask the clerk, “Do you have dirt-cheap sunglasses?” and to save time, if the answer was no I would simply turn around and walk out without a reply. After a while I gave up and decided to just go back to The Bay and pick out the cheapest ones I could find.

After finding a pretty sweet pair of badass, five-o aviators for sixteen bucks, I made my way back to the food court to collect Devlan and get the hell out of Metrotown. When I arrived back at our table I found him slouched way down in his seat, texting. He looked up when he heard me say, “Yo.”

“Thanks so much, man,” he said, reaching for the shades and quickly putting them on his face. He looked around the mall and smiled, obviously satisfied by feeling hidden.

“No prob,” I said. “Who you texting?”

“No one.”

“Emma?” I asked. He and his girlfriend had a hard time going more than a couple hours without talking to each other. Josephine and I, on the other hand, had no cell phones.

“Maybe.”

“Idiot. What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Just hello.”

“Really?” I said, snatching the phone from his grasp. He had said:

Emma. Emma help me. im scared i all alone in metrotown eli lef me

Just so it’s clear why I got so mad at him: Emma was best friends with Josephine, and to put things simply, neither of them would be all too thrilled to find their boyfriend tripping balls in the middle of a public shopping mall on a Monday. We had no choice but to keep our afternoon psychedelic adventure to ourselves.

“You fucking idiot!” I yelled. “You goddamn moron! What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how fucking retarded you are, yeh fucking faggot? You cried to me to get you those sunglasses and then you cry to Emma because I left you? Do you want to get us caught? What the fuck were you thinking? Holy shit you’re stupid.”

“Uh–” he uttered.

“Shut the fuck up. I gotta fix this now.” I began typing out a message to Emma to cover up our trail. Before I could finish, she had replied:

Dev? Are u ok? Why r u in metro town and weres eli? im at work right now but ill try to text u as often as i can

“Aw,” I said after reading it out loud. “She’s so caring.” I resumed typing out my message.

“What are you saying to her?” Dev asked, looking like a poser in his new shades, still slouching, resting his cheek in his palm. I finished typing and read to him what I wrote:

hello emma? Dev and me r in meto ton cus were just chillin. On r way we got a boot an noe were druk. dev is dumb, I was only peeing. have fun workinn!!!

Within seconds she replied again:

Oh boy u guys are drunk this early? lol have fun keep your phone on

“What did she say?” he asked.

I handed him his phone, “Your mother says keep your phone on.”

He read the message to himself and then put his head down on the table and groaned. “I don’t feel good,” he complained.

“Really? I feel great. You ready to go to the beach?” He didn't answer.

We sat there for about ten minutes in thoughtful silence. Sitting at the table beside us was a group of three plump, middle-aged ladies, all of them regarding us with a concerned curiosity.

“Dude, wanna go?” I said, making no attempt to keep my voice down. “These weirdos are looking at us.”

“No, hold on,” he said back. “Let’s just sit here for a bit. I don’t feel good.”

“Well, hell. When are you gonna feel good?”

“I dunno. Just– let’s just stay here.”

“Eughh.” I sunk down in my chair so that my back was flat on the seat and my head rested against the backrest.

We continued to argue about leaving for another fifteen or so minutes. Finally, after numerous attempts, I said something that worked. “Dev! There’s a security guard. He’s on his radio.” I slapped my palms on the table for effect. “Come on. He knows. We have to go.” I got to my feet, glancing nervously over my shoulder.

Without speaking, Devlan stood up. His nostrils were flaring. 

“Follow me, bro,” I said, and I took off across the food court.

We walked with a silent swiftness for the first few minutes. Calming down, I said to Dev, “How do you feel now?”

‘Eh?” he replied.

“How do you feeeel?” I repeated.

“Alright, I guess. Weird. Sick.” His voice trailed off. “Wait… what?”

I started laughing. “I kinda like this,” I said. “I feel nice an flexy.”

“Yeeaahh…” he said, a ginormous grin stretching across his face. “It’s pretty… alright.”

I looked at him with a wide smile and popping eyes, and we both started laughing even harder. Then the two of us just stared straight ahead and got lost in our own heads, marching through the mall like a couple of robots.

We seemed to be walking extremely fast. I looked down at the eggshell-colored floor and noticed the tiles shifting and rising and wobbling out of place. Scuffmarks caked onto the ground from peoples’ shoes crawled slowly along the floor like a fleet of black, slithering bugs, and I had to keep my eyes up to avoid gagging.

In the windows of clothing stores the white-faced manikins stared at us. Perhaps they were once shoppers, too, until they’d gotten their faces and souls sucked by these evil floor bugs. I closed my eyes and jerked my head, shaking the silly thoughts out. When I opened them again, everyone around us suddenly had smooth, white faces exactly like the manikins. My jaw dropped and my eyes rolled around in their sockets so fast it made me dizzy. I was terrified. My hands were trembling and my legs were so numb I forgot I had them. I swallowed hard and looked at Devlan; his face looked really funny so I burst out laughing and forgot all about the evil bugs and the soulless manikins and the faceless people, and just kept on laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” Dev asked, smiling really wide again. But I just kept laughing.

The second we stepped onto the sky train Dev spotted the only empty seat and filled it.

“Eli?” he said slowly. 

“Yo,” I replied. I was standing up behind him, holding onto the railing as the train accelerated.

“We’re going home now, right?”

“What? No way. We’re not going home. We got the whole day.”

“Okay. Have fun,” he said, staring straight ahead. “I'm going home.”

“Dude, we gotta stick together.”

“Dude, we gotta go home. I hate this.”

“If we go home we’ll get caught,” I reasoned.

“Well, then let’s go to the beach.”

“Yeah, dumbass. That’s what I'm sayin.”

“No. White Rock beach.”

“Why?”

“Dude,” he turned around and looked at me. “I gotta be in a place I know, man. I'm freaking out.”

“Bro, you’re killing me,” I said, getting frustrated. “The beach in Vancouver is so much nicer.”

“We have to go home. I'm going home,” he said, and he turned around and faced foreword again. I couldn’t argue.

“Fine,” I said reluctantly. “We’ll go to White Rock beach.”

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Fine.” I looked out the window and the marvelous sight of the city below nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Eli?” Dev said after a few minutes, uncertainty in his tone.

“Yo.”

“What train are we on?”

I was silent for a few seconds before replying. “Fuck. I don’t know.” I looked around curiously. “I’ll find out,” I said with confidence. I let go of the handrail and looked up at the map, squinting. “Shit, Dev. This is really fuzzy.”

“What way are we going?” he asked, still not looking at me. The entire train was listening in on our conversation.

“I don’t know, bro,” I said. “Hang on.” I turned and looked to my right and saw a young red-haired girl who looked like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, sitting delicately with hands folded in her lap, listening to her iPod. “Excuse me?” I said, cautiously approaching her, careful not to frighten her. She removed one headphone and looked up at me with enormous, seductive eyes.

“Yes?” she replied. The single word left her bright luscious lips and penetrated my eardrums in an almost sensual way. I felt a jolt in my knees. Suddenly I was having trouble standing upright.

“Um,” I stuttered. “Uh. I was… uh… wondering if you could help me make sense of this map?” 

She smiled and stood up. “Sure,” she said. “Where do you need to go?”

“Home,” I replied. “The beach. Uh, wait. What was the question? Which way are we going?”

She hesitated, furrowed her brow, and then pointed to the map, saying, “Well, we’re here, and we’re headed this way, towards King George Station.”

“So then, that way’s Vancouver?” I asked, pointing in the other direction. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, I gotcha. Thank you.” I turned around and walked back to Devlan.

“Good news, buddy,” I said. “We’re going the right way. We’ll be in White Rock in no time at all.”

We got off the skytrain at King George Station and headed down to the bus stop where we waited for the bus to take us home. As we ventured down the long, steep staircase, I had to touch myself in several places – knees, elbows, face, shoulders – just to make sure everything was still intact and properly functioning.  I wanted to put my hand down my pants and make sure all that was still in order, but I was scared of what I might’ve found down there, so I didn't.
As soon as we sat down on the White Rock City Center bus, Devlan instantly passed out, resting his head on my shoulder.

The ride was about forty-five minutes, and it was hell. Our drugs had taken us to the next psychedelic level: my vision was blurring and bright objects simultaneously changed colors; my teeth were gummy like a bunch of teeth-shaped jujubes and I wouldn’t close my mouth for fear of squishing them; and there was this sickening, reverberating echo at the back of my head of somebody vomiting every fifteen seconds, making me unbearably nauseous.

Throughout the ride, every ten minutes or so Devlan would sit up, breathe deeply, give me a look like he wanted to slit my throat, and then make an attempt to reach over me and ring the bell, where I would then block his hand and calmly return it to his lap, saying, “No, Devlan. Not yet.” I felt like I was kidnapping a handicapped kid. Then he’d lay his head back down on my numbing shoulder, where I was sure he was leaving an imprint, and drift back to sleep.

Devlan was wide-awake when we finally pulled into the White Rock Centre bus loop. “Thank you, thank you,” I repeated several times to the driver as we made our way off the bus.

“Well,” I said to Dev after the bus drove away. “What now?” He glared at me and I could feel his antipathy, but I didn’t understand where it was coming from. “You okay?” He was silent. His hair was shriveling and his face sweltered bright red in the heat. “Alrighty,” I said. “I guess we’ll just walk to the beach, then. It’s excellent exercise, and I don’t know which one of these other bus fuckers’ll take us there.” I pointed to the row of busses lined up along the bay. Devlan remained silent, continuing to stare at me like he wanted to implode my skull with his mind. Finally, after several exchanges of awkward expressions and dirty looks, he said:

“We look like idiots.” At that I burst out laughing.

“We?” I mocked. “No, no no. You. You look like a goddamn pig devil. Your ears. Your teeth. You look stupid. I look fuckin awesome.” I smirked at him, hoping he would retaliate in some way so we could get some sort of conversation going. But he just got silent again. “Come on,” I said, and we started walking down Johnston road, towards the ocean.

We walked for only six or seven minutes until we came to another bus stop.

“Dude, Dev,” I said, stopping beside the bench. “Wanna just take the bus? We might never make it otherwise.” I waited for a response but he just shrugged his shoulders. “Hmm,” I said. “How about we just get on the bus like two completely regular people, say to the busman, two tickets to the beach, please, and then find a seat like two completely regular people. And then just sit down and keep our mouths shut just like two completely regular people. Wanna try that plan? It might work... Dev?... Dev?... DEV?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said shortly. “We look like idiots.” 

“Alright,” I said. My feelings were hurt. “I’ll make the calls then. We’ll take the bus. You keep your fuckin negativity to yourself, asshole. Come on, let’s sit down.” I motioned towards the bench, where there was a large homeless man, known to most White Rockies as The Hobo, sitting, smoking a cigarette butt. “We’ll talk to the hobo.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned around and plopped myself down beside the massive, filthy-bearded bum. 

“Hey, man,” I said to him. “What’s happenin?” 

As if it were the most physically exhausting thing he’d done all day, he turned his head slowly and looked at me. In a shrill, elfish voice, he said, “Ey.”

I paused, and then mumbled, “What’s up?” but he didn’t answer me. I looked at Dev but the frightening expression on his face made me jump, so I directed my attention back to the hobo. 

“The buses. Yeh just never know,” the homeless man started to say. I could barely understand him due to his incredibly high-pitched voice, his drunken slur, and his especially distracting, long, dancing beard. “One minute they pick yeh up, and the next thing yeh know, they’re dropping yeh off, and yeh don’t ever know where it is they’re droppin yeh.”

“Aha,” I replied, terribly confused. “No. Lame, dude.”

“Yeah. An when I was younger, like yeh, I went to the liquor store, and I told em, you know what I told em? I told em I forgot my ID in my truck,” and he started cackling like a crazy person. “An that bastard believed me. Sold me a bottle. Didn’t think what it’d do to me. Nope.”

“Really. Damn. Fuck that fuckin shit,” I said, trying to sound interested.

“Yeah. An then he asked me for my ID, and yeh know what I said?”

“No, what?”

“I said I forgot it in my truck. Clever, eh? He believed me.”

“Whoa. Cool man.”

“Forgot it in my truck…” he trailed off. And then, scaring the living shit out of me, he burst out laughing again, and as he did so, his mouth opened up so wide I swear I could have crawled right in and curled up in a ball. “Can you believe it?” the homeless man went on. “In my truck!”

“Aha. Aha. Ha… Ah geez. Nuts. That’s nuts. That’s a nuts story, man. Aha,” I was humoring him and I got carried away. I looked at Dev again who squinted and looked furious. “Can you believe it?” I said to him, and I touched him on the nose. “In his truck. Ha!”

Just then, a small shuttle bus bombing down the street entered my peripheral vision. For some reason this greatly excited me. “BUS!” I leapt up and yelled. “HEY DEV! BUS! BUS IS HERE! THE BUS IS HERE!”

“I know,” he said. “I'm right here.”

“That your bus?” asked the hobo.

“Yeah, bro,” I replied. “That’s ours.” 

“Good luck.”

“Thank you. And good luck with all your, uh… shit.”

We boarded the bus and paid yet another buck seventy-five each.

The next bus ride was terrible, so bumpy and nauseating I could feel my organs thrashing around inside of me. It was reaching the hottest point of the day and I was sweating like a hog. To distract myself from being sick, I looked out the window.

Buildings, bushes, parked cars and street signs melted and sizzled into the ground as if Earth’s crust was one massive frying pan. I stared at the fascinating scene like a child discovering television. My reflection in the window made me aware of my mouth hanging open, making me look retarded, so I closed it with my right hand.

Suddenly the bus took a turn and started heading down a street parallel to the ocean. “Uh-oh,” I said to Devlan, who didn’t seem to notice my being there. “I think we may have boarded the wrong bus.” Devlan said nothing.

“Bus driver?” I said loudly, hunching forward in my seat.

“Yeah?” a voice answered from up front.

“Are you going to the beach? Are we going to the beach, I mean?”

 “Nope.”

“WHAT!?” I half shrieked. “What d’yah mean, nope?

“No,” he continued. “This is the C53. You want the C51 or the C52.” There was a silence. “Should I let you off here?”

I was quiet. Frustrated and confused. “Uhm, yeah. Sure… Fuck.”

The bus pulled over at the next stop, slowing to a rickety halt. “Thank you,” I said as we stepped off. Devlan remained silent.

We watched as the bus spun and twirled and weaved its way down the street before bending a sharp corner and disappearing into town.

“So,” I said awkwardly, fully aware of the failure of my plan. “Walking to the beach, then?” I made two finger guns and pointed them down the street. “Lez go.”

I started walking down the deserted beach-view avenue, eyes transfixed on the water, which was beautifully visible over the tops of the waving pine trees. It was a few seconds before I realized that Devlan had remained behind.

“Dev!” I shouted. “Come on! The beach is this way!” He didn’t answer. He was standing facing a parked car on the side of the road, his back to me, completely out of it and hilarious-looking. “Dev. Devlan. Dev-lan,” I said, threatening him like a toddler.

He turned around suddenly and for the first time in nearly two hours he said something other than “shut the fuck up,” or “we look like idiots.” 

“Why?” he posed. “Why should we go to the beach? What difference does it make?” I didn’t know if he was being serious or not, so I said,

“Uhm, the beach fucking rocks.”

“Well, shit. What does the beach have to offer that we can’t do right here? Sit on the grass and do nothing?” He pointed to the boulevard four feet away. “There’s grass right here. Why don’t we just sit here?”

“Okay, Dev. You have a nice time sitting on the side of the road like a bum, but I'm going to the beach, and I'm gonna chill, and listen to music, and smoke a doobie, and eat ice cream.”

“Fine. Have fun,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief. The skin on his face resembled a wax statue, melting rapidly under the heat of the sun. I studied this for about thirty seconds, while he no-doubt studied whatever fucked-up illusion my face was portraying. Finally I decided to be really nice, so I said,

“Devy, come on,” and I took a step closer. “Let’s just get to the beach. Trust me on this one; it’ll be funner than this curb. Remember how I'm really good at knowing if something is going to be fun or not? And you’re a fucking idiot when it comes to that? Well, I think the beach will be fun. So come on, bro. Quit breaking my balls. I’ve dragged your ass all the way from Metrotown just so I could trip like crazy at the beach. Don’t give up on me a hundred feet away.”

I stared directly into his eyes and he glared back at me. I chuckled a little and then I touched my face to make sure it was still there.

“So, what do you say? You coming?” He closed his eyes. “Come on, let’s go,” I said, and I put my hand on his bicep and tugged. As I did so his eyes flashed open and, like a whistling T-ball, he swung out a loosely clenched fist and smashed it into the left side of my face. The impact sent my precious sunglasses flying twenty feet through the air, landing hard onto the middle of the quiet street. I quickly moved my hand from his arm to his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. 

“Dev!” I shouted, clenching my teeth. “You’re an asshole! Now wait here while I go get my sunglasses.” 

I walked cautiously over to my shades and picked them up. “Few, no scratches.” I breathed on the lenses and without wiping them, set them back on my face and smiled. “Let’s go, douchebag.”

We walked for only about three minutes – not even to the end of the block – before Devlan stopped again. 

“Hey,” he called from behind. “Why did you kill me?” I stopped walking and looked at him, confused. Then, as if he were on stage in a dramatic murder scene, his arms flailed and he spun around for a few seconds before flopping facedown onto the freshly cut boulevard. “Eughh,” he said as he went down.

“Oh my god, man,” I said, almost to the point of giving up. “This is bullshit.”

I looked up at the sky and admired the beauty: the massive white clouds and their changing, colorful hues. The sun was very hot now and I was sweating trickling streams down my face, back and underarms. 

“Well,” I said, “we’re basically at the beach. I guess we can chill here.” Dev’s face was still buried in the grass as I sat down beside him. “Ready to chill, my man?”

“Fuck you,” he muffled.

“Ah, what’s that now?”

“Fuck you. You killed me,” he said, getting a mouthful of grass.

“Shit,” I said back, and I closed my eyes and had myself a very peaceful four or five minutes.

After snapping out of it again, I turned around and looked at Dev, wondering why he was being so quiet.

His face was all screwed up: eyes squeezed shut and lips pursed, spitting and breathing heavily. Now lying on his back, his muddled body twitched and shook as he attempted to bend his arm in a way it wouldn’t bend. “Auurghh!” he squawked as his eyes flickered and watered.

“DEV!” I screamed. “MOTHERFUCKER FROM HELL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Instantly I had him pinned on his back, clutching his wrists and trembling. “Holy shit,” I said, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. “Dude, you don’t want to do that, trust me.”

“Trust you?” he said from his pinned position. “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“I didn’t kill you, bro. Shut the fuck up.”

“Where am I, then?” he asked.

“What?”

“Where’s Eli?”

“I dunno. Wait–”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Kill me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Where’s Emma? What is Emma, anyway?”

“I dunno. Who cares?” And then there was a pause.

“What do you want?” asked Devlan, breaking the silence.

“I want to go to the beach,” I replied.

“You wanna rape me? Is that what you wanna do at the beach?”

“Nope. I just wanna go to the beach.”

“You gonna rape me, motherfucker?”

“No, bro.”

“You want me to rape you? Huh?”

“Sure. But not here. How bout at the beach?”

“Don’t you fucking rape me, you fucking asshole. You piece of shit. I fuckin hate you, you know that?”

“No. Why?”

“Cus you fucking killed me. You. Fucking. Killed me. Why?”

“Dev,” I said, increasing my hold on his wrists. “Listen to me. I didn’t–”

“YOU KILLED ME!” he interrupted, flat-out screaming at the top of his lungs. “WHY DID YOU KILL ME!? WHY!? WHY!?”

“Holyfuckingshit, Dev,” I said as I quickly stood up and released him. “Dude, stop yelling.”

“FUCK YOU! YOU KILLED ME!”

“Come on, man. Someone’s gonna call nine-one-one.”

“WHY DID YOU KILL ME!?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“FUCK! YOU!”

 “Seriously, you’re gonna get us caught. Chill out.” I looked around to see if there was anyone nearby, but a little brown house across the street got me distracted:

 Its roof languidly caved in and the bushes in the front yard waved and swiveled as they nonchalantly morphed with the grass.

“Uhhh,” I started drooling. I was completely oblivious of Devlan behind me as he stood up, still screaming at the top of his lungs, and staggered over to a five-foot-high wooden fence, which divided the boulevard from the yard on the other side.

“FUCKIN FUCKER! AHHH!” he bellowed as he grasped the top of the fence with both hands, and with three monstrous blows, pounded his forehead on the hard wood. His cries of pain got my attention.

“Dev!” I let out a high-pitched shriek. “What are you doing? You wanna die?”

“I'm dead! I can’t die!” he cried back. I got to my feet.

“No you’re not!” I gave him a shove. “And you can die.” I shoved him again. “And you’re going to if you keep bashing your brains, moron. Sit down.” I pushed him over. Then I sat down beside him and continued staring at the house across the street.

“What the fuck?” I whispered a couple minutes later, squinting in disbelief. Something purple was coming out of one of the trees in the front yard of the small brown house. I looked at Devlan, who had finally shut up. “What the fuck is that?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. I looked back and saw that the purple thing was getting closer. “What the fuck?” I said, now completely panicking. My eyes darted from side to side.

“Do ooo nar heee,” came a creepy, cackling voice from across the street. It sounded like it could have belonged to a tiny troll or goblin of some sort.

Terrified, my eyes started to water and my forehead dripped as I nervously dug all ten of my fingers into the earth and came up with two heaping handfuls of grass. “Devlan,” I said, looking to him for help. “What the fuck is this?” He didn’t answer.

“Dooo ahh eee,” came the same cracky, chilling voice. This purple blob, which I was half convinced only I could see, was definitely talking to me.

“What the fucking fuck?” I asked out loud, frustrated and totally confused. 

“Doo eee aih,” said the blob again, getting louder.

“Dev…?” I looked back at him. He was lying on his stomach, mumbling to himself like a schizophrenic. “Dev, help me out here.”

As I slowly, neurotically turned my head back, now shivering slightly, to look once more at the talking purple blob thing, I was hit by a wave of realization: a concerned neighbour, perturbed by the sound of Devlan screaming bloody murder, had been Good Samaritan enough to come out and see what was the matter. She wore a purple blouse. 

“Do you need help?” I realized was what she was saying. I contemplated before replying back, shouting,

“Yes, please!” With one giant step, she crossed the street.

She was a middle-aged, blonde woman with a face that looked like she had spent the last forty years decaying at the bottom of the ocean, covered in a thick, pale blue coat of slime. Her fluorescent yellow hair was so bright and intense I had to squint my eyes just to look at her. I thought to myself, if I wasn’t so fucked up, I think I’d certainly find this lady attractive.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked as she came closer, genuinely concerned.

“Uh, he’s just gone nuts,” I replied. “That’s all. Just so, so nuts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… he’s dead… and he’s stupid… and he doesn’t want to go to the beach… and… fuck.”

“Hmm,” she pondered. “So, what did you guys take?”

“Well,” I began. “Don’t go telling anybody this, but Homer Simpsons. Two each.” I held up my index finger and thumb a quarter inch apart. “Two little pink Homer pills.”

“And do you know what was in them?”

I hesitated. “I was told acid – well, LSD based – but I didn’t think acid came in a pill, so perhaps we are on some acid. Plus some other dirty shit, probably.” She looked at me with a very curious expression. The lines on her late-thirties, early-forties face sagged and drooped, resembling a giant scrotum.

“Hm,” she said. “That’s the problem today, you can never know what you took. It’s all just chemicals all mixed together.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I said, nodding, “but mhmm. Mhmm.”

“Well, if you need a place to bring him until he calms down, you’re welcome to use my yard,” she pointed across the street. “I've got a couch and some chairs out back. You can chill there until he’s a little more manageable.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief. “Holy shit, thanks. You’re totally saving our asses. Thanks so much.” I stood up and offered her my hand. She shook it and said,

“I’m–” and she said a name that started with an L, which went right over my head.

“I’m Eli!” I accidently replied way too loudly. “Thank you for your kindness!” It was now roughly two thirty in the afternoon and we were finally reaching our highest point.

Getting Devlan to cross the street proved to be a lot more difficult than I had anticipated. In the fifteen minutes it took, he had asked at least twenty questions about life and death, made a number of rude hand and body gestures at me, yelled a little bit more and then attempted to snap his jaw. When we were finally sitting in the nice lady’s backyard, Dev on a shaggy little sofa and me sitting with crossed legs on a white plastic patio chair, Dev asked,

“Where’s Emma?”

“Well,” I answered. “Emma’s at work.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know!” I blew up. “Stop asking me all this stupid shit!” He was silent for a few seconds.

“Okay,” he said, and he leaned his head back on the sofa and stared up at the sky. Ever so casually, he lifted his hands to his head and started yanking on fistfuls of his hair.

“Dev, stop pulling your hair,” I said, too exhausted to care.

A couple minutes later the lady in the purple blouse came out of the house again with a tray in her hands. “How’s he doing?” she asked.

“Alright, I think,” I replied. “Thanks for this awesome hangout spot. We could come here during school and at lunch and stuff. This place is dope. The trees… The grass...”

“Here, I brought you guys some lemon water and ice. He looks really red.”

“Yeah, he’s straight fucked,” I mumbled.

She approached Devlan and offered him a yellow plastic cup, which he just stared at as if it were a bomb.

“Dev, drink the water,” I said with my hands cupped over my mouth to make my voice travel farther, even though he was less than five feet away. He looked at me, and then back at the cup. And back at me, and then back at the cup again. Quick as a flash, instead of accepting the generous offer, he reached up and smacked the cup out of the sweet lady’s grasp, soaking her in her own kindness. She froze. I froze. Devlan smiled like an evil toddler, squinting his eyes and showing his teeth.

“That’s it,” she snapped, pointing at Dev with a mean, condemning finger. “This is MY casa. You don’t fuck around in MY casa.” She turned around and stormed back into the house, still carrying the tray.

“I'm so sorry,” I said, laughing my head off as she walked away. “So so so sorry.” And she slammed the door. “Dev! You fucking idiot! What were you thinking? She was so nice. You dick. I don’t know what the hell a casa is, but please don’t fuck around in it. Ah!”

After sitting outside for another five minutes or so, we were joined by a large, muscular man wearing a tight grey T-shirt. He had short black hair, a chiseled face, and skin that seemed to be made of a million tiny, wobbling puzzle pieces. He sat down with us and said,

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Yo. Pretty good,” I replied. “I'm Eli and he’s Devlan. Are you trippin, too?” He gave me a grave look.

“No,” he said curtly. “This is my girlfriend’s house. She just came inside saying your buddy here soaked her. What’s that about?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, but then reached his level of seriousness. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“So, what did you guys take?” he asked, looking over at Devlan, who was exposing and rubbing his abdominal in an awkward display of sexuality.

“Ah, nothing,” I rolled my eyes and looked away. “We just chillin.”

“Come on, man. You just said you were tripping. What are you guys on?” I looked at Dev, whose hand was now three inches deep in his underwear, eyes closed and licking his lips.

“Fine,” I surrendered. “Acid. But in a pill, so a bunch a other shit, too. We did two each, but it’s really no big deal. Except for Dev, cus he’s fuckin dumb, I think. He’s nuts. I honestly have no idea what’s gotten into him today. Must a been those Homers… Fuckin Homers... Shit.” I stopped talking and stared straight ahead; my mouth hung open and my eyes drooped and I became very still.

“You okay?” the boyfriend asked me, waving his hand in front of my face. With a sudden, nervous jerk, I looked back at him and my eyes darted from side to side.

“Yeah. Why? Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Then it was silent and awkward for a few seconds, until Devlan shouted, “What!?” and then started to pull his hair again, this time more forcefully.

“I dunno, man,” I said, looking down at my shoes. “I do not know what at all.”

“What are you doing?” the boyfriend asked.

“I'm trying to follow my shoelace from one end to the other,” I replied.

“No, not you. Him. Why’re you pulling your hair– what’s his name, again?”

“Devlan,” I answered, looking up from my shoes and raising a single finger in the air. “His name is Devlan.”

“–Devlan. Why are you pulling your hair, Devlan?”

“Why?” Dev responded, not stopping. “Why what?” 

“Why are you pulling your hair?” he repeated again.

“Why did you kill Emma? I don’t know, you fucker. Why did you?”

“Pardon?”

“And now you’re going to kill me, too. Oh no, wait. You can’t, because this fucking asshole already did that,” he said, pointing a harsh finger at me. “Eughh!” and he started yanking even harder.

The boyfriend turned to me, “What’s he talking about?”

“Beats me, muthafucka,” I replied, and I touched him on the nose.

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

“Sorry, Boo-boo.” I put my head down shamefully, but then got distracted once again by my winding and twisting shoelaces.

“Is there someone we could call?” asked the boyfriend finally, looking concerned as Devlan started to punch the couch he was sitting on. “Maybe his mom. Or dad.” I looked up quickly.

“Fuck that. Then they’ll know. The whole point in me bustin my ass trying to keep this fucker quiet is so we don’t get caught, stupid. That’s a stupid plan.”

“Does he have a cell phone?”

“Yeah,” I reached into my pocket and took out Dev’s iPhone. “Its right here,” and I handed it to him. “Don’t call his mom, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Okay,” he said, and he stood up and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Who you callin?” I asked him. He didn’t answer. “Dev, who d’yah think he’s callin?”

“Fuck you,” Dev replied.

“That’s nice.”

After many unsuccessful phone call attempts, the boyfriend handed me Devlan’s phone back. “Neither of his parents answered,” he said as I reached for it.

“What? Wait… what?” I babbled, horribly bewildered. “You phoned his parents?” It became obvious that this buff, middle-aged tough guy was not at all taking me seriously.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Their numbers were on there.” It took me a minute to process this information before plunging into speech.

“First off,” I began. “What the hell does that mean? And you just phoned his parents like that? You dick. The purple lady said she was gonna help us, not fuck us over. What in the fuck did yah do a thing like that for? Shit man. Ask me for his phone again, I’ll tell you to fuck yourself. I don’t know what we did to piss you off, but fuckin hell – we sorry. Don’t call the authorities, man. Swear to god. Don’t… don’t call the authorities.” 

I looked down at the phone in my hand, rubbery and easily bendable. I turned it on and the flash of the three and a half inch screen instantly had me hypnotized.

“Need help with that phone?” the boyfriend asked me. He had been standing over me, watching me stare unblinking at this curious object in my hand for about three or four minutes, silent. The sound of his voice brought me back to Earth. 

“Yeah, here,” I said, holding out Devlan’s phone. “Take this fuckin thing. It’s sucking the life out of me.” He chuckled and took the phone from me again, and then walked away with it pressed against his ear.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the lady in purple had returned. “Oh, hi again!” I yelled to her. She was standing on her balcony, out of range of anything twisted Devlan might throw at her.

“Hi,” she smiled sweetly. “Just to let you know, paramedics are on their way over, just to check on him. Just in case. He looks really red still.”

“And they’re not gonna fuck us, right!?” I yelled back. She looked awkwardly puzzled.

“No…”

“Good! Cus sometimes they fuck you, yah know what I mean!?”

“Okay,” and she went back inside.

“Hey, where’d you go?” I called after her.

“Faggot.”

“Who said that?” I jerked my head around. I had completely forgotten about Devlan. “Oh, shit. Hey, Dev. What’s up? You still retarded?”

“No,” he spat back.

“Yeah, you are. Shut up now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, by the way,” I started saying. “Did I tell you that you’ve been looking fucking gorgeous these days?” He was silent for a moment.

“No.”

“Well, oh my god, man. You have, let me tell you. Sometimes – I'm not gonna lie – I just can’t look away.”

“Faggot.”

“Except today,” I went on. “What with your red, sweltering face and your demon looking ears and that nasty ass hair that just kinda flops disgustingly on your sweaty head. Today you look like shit, no joke. But lately… lately you’ve been at the top of your game, you know that? But not today. For sure not today. Aha.” And then I started laughing so hard I nearly stumbled off my chair.

The next thing I remember I was watching a massive, shiny red and silver fire truck drift slowly into view. In an attempt to avoid the three or four goons dressed in blue that were piling out of it and ambling towards me, I got up from my seat and stepped behind a humongous evergreen tree. Raising my hands above my head, I embraced the tree. With my face four inches from its bark, intensively, I studied its texture. “Holy hell,” I muttered to myself. “Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.”

“Hi, guys,” I heard someone say, interrupting my revelation with the trippy evergreen. “Thanks for coming. He’s right over here.” 

Looking up, I noticed with horror that I was standing less than fifteen feet away from several authorities. Paramedics, fire fighters, emergency squads, cops – whatever they were. I was petrified. I swallowed hard, barely coping with the fear and confusion. Sweat was pouring down my face, confusing me all the more as I felt my soaked forehead and noticed that my hand came away wet. Am I a liquid? The thought terrified me and I started to sweat even more. 

The gumminess in my teeth had returned, followed by the puking noises in my head. Flashbacks from the entire day – a lifetime, it seemed – flooded my mind, causing me to seriously question my perception of time. Things that had happened a week ago seemed like events from a previous lifetime. What the hell is going on? I wondered. Where am I? Is anything ever going to be like the way it once was?

Someone finally put a hand on my shoulder and told me to sit down, whereupon I obeyed out of sheer fear.

“Give me your finger,” a voice echoed in slow motion.

“Give me your finger?” I questioned. “Give me your finger? No. Please. Don’t!” But my hand was snatched and my index finger was instantly inserted into some fancy heart rate monitor gadget. “WHAT THE FUCK!?” I screamed.

“Calm down,” came the same slow, echoing voice.

In another moment, shortly after partially comprehending the reality of the situation, I found myself standing face-to-face, one-on-one in a conversation with a tall, broad police officer. About an inch and a half below his left eye was some sort of blemish, and it was dancing and making me smirk.

“So, your friend Devlan over there,” the officer was saying in a deep, authoritative voice. “What kinds of drugs did he take?”

“Well,” I replied, looking over my shoulder to see if anyone could hear me. “One can never be too sure. I mean, shit, who knows, eh?” and I snickered. The cop frowned at me.

“What drugs did he take?” he repeated gravely.

“Sorry, uhm, sorry,” I stuttered, and then I chuckled again. “I don’t mean to be difficult. There is an explanation to all this shit. It’s just that – today’s been so fucked – I really don’t wanna get caught for all this, yah know?”

“What drugs did he take?”

“You just asked me that.”

“You didn't answer. What drugs did he take?”

“Fuck. Okay. Shit. Like, uh, LSD – but in a Homer Simpson pill – so not just LSD, yah know?”

“How many did he take?”

“Two,” I held up two fingers right in his face.

“And how many did you take?” he asked, lowering my hand from his face.

“Uh, zero,” I looked away and casually rested my hands in my pockets. “None for me, thanks.” 

“Your heart rate’s at one-eighty. Any higher and you’d be having a heart attack.” I didn't know what to say to that.

“Shit, huh?”

“Go back and sit down,” he motioned toward the chair I had been sitting in.

“Okay,” I said, and I went and sat back down, where I watched two paramedics wrestle Devlan into wearing an oxygen mask, which he kept ripping off his face. And then I zoned out, yet again.

The next thing I heard was more sirens – a fiendish, high-pitched squawking noise that absolutely irritated the hell out of me. Upon swiveling around anxiously in my chair, I was perplexed to see yet another nine-one-one vehicle enter the scene, this time an ambulance.

“Hold on here a minute,” I stood up and started to say to no one in particular. “What the fuck is this? A fire truck, a cop car, and an ambludance?” I couldn’t say ambulance. “All for us? Shit. Talk about a quiet day at the station, eh boys?” When no one responded I sat back down. “Idiots,” I mumbled to myself.

“What about him?” The shrill, sour voice of an ill-tempered woman penetrated my eardrum and sent a terrible shiver down my spine. Looking around the chaos, I had no idea where this mean voice was coming from. “He’s high, too?”

Where are you? I thought to myself. Who’s high? 

Unfriendly fingers snapped impatiently in my face. “Hey. What’s your name? What’s your name? Can you hear me?” I rubbed my eyes and opened them, and when I did I nearly screamed. An ugly boar face, not six inches from my own, was bending down before me, staring and breathing with such intensity I had to look away. Her sweltering, blemish-swarmed flesh, coloured a dark, murky pink, sagged and drooped like melting wax as disgusting globs of sweat, drool and gunk oozed and splattered out of every single orifice on her head. I couldn’t bare the sight. She was short, plump, and one hundred percent making me nauseous. 

“Can you talk?” she was saying. “Answer me. What’s your name?”

As I answered, I remained completely oblivious of everything that was around me. “Eli,” I said in a dazed, far away voice.

“Spell it,” she spat. Instantly I picked up on her hostile tone, and the potential conflict excited me, pulling me back to reality.

“Eeee,” I spluttered immaturely. “Ellll. Eyyye. Three letters. Not hard, thtoopid.” I raised a stiff middle finger into the air, directing it square at the pig-woman’s scrunched up face.

This continued as I begrudgingly surrendered the rest of my personal information.

After sitting in that little white patio chair for what seemed like all day, I got the impression that the show was over, and that everyone would just leave once they realized we weren’t going to die or cause any further disturbance. But when they wheeled Devlan by me in a stretcher and ordered me into the ambulance after him, I finally realized the extent to the amount of trouble I was in. 

But the opportunity to ride in the back of a speeding ambulance in that state of mind doesn’t come everyday, and in fact it was incredibly exhilarating. Darkness. Sharp turns. Millions of flashing lights and beeping buzzers. Lounging in a lushly cushioned, leather seat. Facing backwards, I might add. It was the highlight of my trip, for sure, and my enthralled smile did not once quiver. This was exploration space, and I wanted the ride never to end.

We arrived at the hospital in about ten minutes. The two pudgy paramedics wheeled Devlan in as I walked slowly behind them, eyes wider than moons, showing no signs of coming down. 

We waited in a hallway leading to the Emergency Room, Devlan looking comfortable in his bed and me sitting restless on a little pink chair made of wood. I glared at Dev, envious of his comfort.

“Yo, Dev. You alive?” I asked. One of the paramedics had stayed with us. 

“Yeah,” he said, obviously confused. Then it was silent.

“Fuck you for all this, by the way,” I added. Devlan chuckled.

“What? Why?”

“What d’yah mean, why? Asshole.”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry for punching you in the face.”

“Don’t worry, didn't feel a thing. At least you get a bed. I hate this fuckin chair.”

“Uhm,” he mumbled a bunch of gibberish. “Hang on,” He motioned to the paramedic standing nearby, busy on her cell phone. “Excuse me,” he asked politely. “Um, do you think maybe it’s time for us to switch–?” 

“Are you kidding?” she interrupted, having overheard the entire conversation. “Not a chance. Stop talking.”

“You’re a bitch,” I shot at her. “You stop talking.”

“Hey!” she retorted. “You better mind your mouth, or you’ll find yourself in the backseat of a police car.”

“Bullshit. I'm high, I can say what I want, yah bitch.”

“Alright. If you want to test me, go for it.”

“Pthh. Test you. What the fuck does that even mean? Maybe you’re the one who should be in the stretcher, and Dev should be in this chair, and I should be the ambludance driver, cus you’re a fuckin dickweed.”

With that she simply looked at me with an intense, grave stare, hesitated, and said in a low voice, “You know, you really are a moron.”

I laughed, “Moron? Hmm hmm. Fuck you bitch.” But I avoided her eyes, as the thought of melting in the back of a police car really did frighten me.

We spent the remainder of our trip in separate wards, me in a regular one with a pink curtain and Devlan in a separate room with a door and a lock. 

Fully done up in pale-blue hospital scrubs and a mess of color-coated cords and wires attached to my stomach like some sort of car battery, I laid on top of the cotton sheets of my hospital bed, eyes locked on a single speck on the ceiling.

For the five or so hours I laid there, I wasn’t thinking at all about how much trouble I’d be in when my mom arrived, or what my girlfriend would think if she saw me like this, or what had happened to the joint and cigars that were in my pocket – or even that we’d both narrowly escaped heart failure. All I was thinking was: Oh my god, where’s Dev? All I wanted at that point was to sit down with my best friend and talk. Smoke a doobie, talk about the day, about our year, our girls, our friends and our lives. We’d had the adventure of a lifetime, and like many of the ridiculous stories we lived that summer, it was one we would not soon forget. I just wished they had put our hospital beds right next to each other; that five hours would’ve passed like five minutes.

END