Pals, part I
It’s great to have pals. I’ve got two in particular that I don’t really see all that often anymore but I think we’ll always be best friends, no matter the distance between us.
I met my buddy Rob in an accounting class when we were at Pierce College. He and I worked on a class project together and things snowballed. We eventually became such good buddies that we shared an apartment – those were good times. Our apartment was on the top floor of a 4-story building. We had a big sliding glass door that led onto a balcony that faced the street. With all the lights in the apartment out, one guy would look out the bedroom window and holler when a car was approaching. At the signal, the other guy would toss a water balloon from the middle of the living room, out the open door and down onto the passing car (hopefully). It was unbridled hilarity. I know, it doesn’t sound like all that much fun. Consume a 12 pack of Coors Light, try it, and get back to me. I’m sure you’ll have changed your mind. I think one reason Rob and I are such good buddies is that we both have the little boy in us that refuses to grow up. The kid that likes to shoot rockets and guns, blow up things, build airplanes & fly them, etc. One time we were sitting around the apartment, fresh out of water balloons, bored and we decided to make a run to Vegas. Most guys in their early 20’s would roll to Vegas to gamble, get loaded, maybe check out a strip club. Not us. We drove there and back, staying just long enough to completely load the trunk of the car with illegal fireworks. The water balloon bomb game took on a whole new dimension with an M-80 taped to it. Those were good times.
One day he called me while I was kicking back at the apartment.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Nothin’ man, just watching t.v. Where are you?”
“I’m over at my parents’ house taking in the mail while they’re out of town. Say, you remember ‘Linda’ from my office? Her husband passed away a couple years ago. He was a real gun nut. Linda was cleaning out the garage and she came across this box that says, “EXPLODING TARGETS”. She gave 'em to me.”
“I’ll be right over.”
His parents didn’t live far and it probably took me all of about 6 minutes to get there. Apparently, that was far too much time for Rob. I guess he got to looking at those targets and just couldn’t help himself. I suppose he thought he’d cook one off himself and still have plenty to share with me when I arrived, me being none the wiser. Each target was a rectangular box the size of those little Kleenex packages your mom carries in her purse. On the back was a strip of 2-sided tape. Rob pulled off the backing, stuck the target to the block wall and, with his Crossman BB gun in hand, retreated to the other side of the yard. He took a couple shots but couldn’t hit it. So he closed the distance a bit. A few more shots, nothing. In a little closer. More shots, nothing. Impatience and poor shooting skills had now brought Rob not more than a few feet from the target. I parked in front of his parents’ house and had just closed the door to my truck when I heard a thunderous “KABOOOOMM!!!” And I can’t even describe how loud this was, it literally shook the windows on the house. Smoke from the backyard billowed into the air, over and around the house. I ran for the side gate to check on the condition of my imbecilic friend. The gate flew open and he staggered out, BB gun still in his hand, blood dripping from his forehead, hacking and coughing and a look of total shock on his face. “Those things are awesome!” was all he could choke out. Neighbors poured from their houses, “What the hell was that??” “Yeah, sorry about that," I covered. "We were trying to light the barbecue and there was a leak in the propane tank. It’s okay, just go on inside, nothing to see here.” When the smoke finally cleared and the neighbors were all back inside their houses we sat on the back patio eyeing the divot in the block wall where the target had recently resided. Rob sat pensively, caressing the bandage on his forehead. He finally spoke, “My dad has a welding helmet in the shed. You should wear it when you shoot the next one.” How can you not be friends with a guy like that?
I met my buddy Rob in an accounting class when we were at Pierce College. He and I worked on a class project together and things snowballed. We eventually became such good buddies that we shared an apartment – those were good times. Our apartment was on the top floor of a 4-story building. We had a big sliding glass door that led onto a balcony that faced the street. With all the lights in the apartment out, one guy would look out the bedroom window and holler when a car was approaching. At the signal, the other guy would toss a water balloon from the middle of the living room, out the open door and down onto the passing car (hopefully). It was unbridled hilarity. I know, it doesn’t sound like all that much fun. Consume a 12 pack of Coors Light, try it, and get back to me. I’m sure you’ll have changed your mind. I think one reason Rob and I are such good buddies is that we both have the little boy in us that refuses to grow up. The kid that likes to shoot rockets and guns, blow up things, build airplanes & fly them, etc. One time we were sitting around the apartment, fresh out of water balloons, bored and we decided to make a run to Vegas. Most guys in their early 20’s would roll to Vegas to gamble, get loaded, maybe check out a strip club. Not us. We drove there and back, staying just long enough to completely load the trunk of the car with illegal fireworks. The water balloon bomb game took on a whole new dimension with an M-80 taped to it. Those were good times.
One day he called me while I was kicking back at the apartment.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Nothin’ man, just watching t.v. Where are you?”
“I’m over at my parents’ house taking in the mail while they’re out of town. Say, you remember ‘Linda’ from my office? Her husband passed away a couple years ago. He was a real gun nut. Linda was cleaning out the garage and she came across this box that says, “EXPLODING TARGETS”. She gave 'em to me.”
“I’ll be right over.”
His parents didn’t live far and it probably took me all of about 6 minutes to get there. Apparently, that was far too much time for Rob. I guess he got to looking at those targets and just couldn’t help himself. I suppose he thought he’d cook one off himself and still have plenty to share with me when I arrived, me being none the wiser. Each target was a rectangular box the size of those little Kleenex packages your mom carries in her purse. On the back was a strip of 2-sided tape. Rob pulled off the backing, stuck the target to the block wall and, with his Crossman BB gun in hand, retreated to the other side of the yard. He took a couple shots but couldn’t hit it. So he closed the distance a bit. A few more shots, nothing. In a little closer. More shots, nothing. Impatience and poor shooting skills had now brought Rob not more than a few feet from the target. I parked in front of his parents’ house and had just closed the door to my truck when I heard a thunderous “KABOOOOMM!!!” And I can’t even describe how loud this was, it literally shook the windows on the house. Smoke from the backyard billowed into the air, over and around the house. I ran for the side gate to check on the condition of my imbecilic friend. The gate flew open and he staggered out, BB gun still in his hand, blood dripping from his forehead, hacking and coughing and a look of total shock on his face. “Those things are awesome!” was all he could choke out. Neighbors poured from their houses, “What the hell was that??” “Yeah, sorry about that," I covered. "We were trying to light the barbecue and there was a leak in the propane tank. It’s okay, just go on inside, nothing to see here.” When the smoke finally cleared and the neighbors were all back inside their houses we sat on the back patio eyeing the divot in the block wall where the target had recently resided. Rob sat pensively, caressing the bandage on his forehead. He finally spoke, “My dad has a welding helmet in the shed. You should wear it when you shoot the next one.” How can you not be friends with a guy like that?
posted by willhuntforfood at 11:06 PM
2 Comments:
I'm sending this to everybody (well... almost everybody) in my address book. You really do have a gift, it would be a shame if you didn't take advantage of it. Do you have a mailing list I can get on?
this is brilliant...
gotta get me a block wall and some targets that casue neighbors to be nosy.
now, where's my son's bb gun at?
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