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Is This The End Of Us All?


Foxy Methoxy
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On a cold, rainy December Friday right before Christmas vacation, I had been caught skipping school and rather than stay home and face the music with my parents, I bummed around town all day trying to figure out how long I could avoid them. I eventually found myself stranded in Downtown Jacksonville without a ride home just as it was getting dark. This was a long way from the suburbs of Orange Park and because I was already in trouble with my parents, I wasn't about to call them and ask for a ride home. I hadn't just skipped one day of school. It started as one day but grew into a week, then two weeks. Factoring in Christmas vacation, I had a whole month off. I managed to avoid getting caught until the last day when one of my concerned teachers called my dad at work to find out if everything was OK. When he called and told me we were going to have a talk when he gets home, I decided the last thing I should do was stay home. So I bolted, hoping to put off any kind of punishment for another day.

 

By about 6 PM, I'd run out of things to do and places to go. I was hanging out near the Greyhound bus station when this guy named Ronnie tried to sell me some "Boo yah." I didn't know exactly what "Boo yah" was, but by looking at Ronnie I could tell it wasn't good for your teeth. So I politely declined and walked into the nearby Kinkos store. It was my lucky day. My old friend, Rob, who had been one of the youth leaders at New Life Christian Fellowship was there making fliers for The Fusion Cafe. I asked him for a ride home since he lived in Orange Park, too, and he hesitantly agreed. After he finished making the fliers, the owner of Fusion, Steve, showed up in his little orange convertible Karmann Ghia. Steve wasn't too happy to see me, but agreed to let Rob give me a ride home. It was a two seater, so I had to squeeze into the space between the front seats and the trunk and hang on for dear life while given the task of cradling the box of fliers Rob had just made.

 

Steve gives Rob the keys and Rob takes off driving like a madman. As we were driving back to Riverside for a stop at Fusion, they get into an argument about how fast Rob is driving. The argument becomes very heated, Steve repeatedly calls Rob a bratty little faggot, and I start to suspect maybe Rob and Steve are more than just friends. Maybe the most righteous, hardcore religious zealot in my church's youth group was now dating a 35 year old pudgy ginger named Steve. Then, as we were turning on the exit to College St, the car hydroplanes down the hill straight towards a brick wall. Maybe I was about to die in the back of a little orange convertible with two bickering homos. What a way to go. As we slide hopelessly down the hill, Rob turns to Steve and says "Is this the end of us all?" Then we hit the curb and lucky for us, the tires pop, preventing us from smashing into the wall, but throwing a box full of fliers out of my lap and scattering them all over Riverside. I wasn't going to die in the back of a Karmann Ghia after all. My tombstone wasn't going to read "Here lies Ben. He died in the backseat of Steve's convertible." I breathed a big sigh of relief. Then Steve looks at Rob and says "Is this the end of us all? Is that the only thing you could think to say as you were wrecking my car? And great. Just great! Now we have to go back to Kinkos and make more fliers." The bickering resumed right where they left off.

 

 

 

Anyway, that's why you should never just take off when you're already trouble with your parents.

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