Oh No, Not Again...

I've been reflecting a bit lately. Thinking of times past, having a laugh now and again. God, you'd think I was dying. As we get closer and closer to the finish of the house, sometimes I wish I were dying, but it's all coming together and I see the proverbial light, albeit a flickering one.

Perhaps it's the house and the job that have me waxing nostalgic...you know...success means that death is imminent.

Anyway, this post is about FUN, not death!

So, in high school, I ran around with an insane bunch of ass monkeys. Matter of fact, some of them are my best friends to this day. This story involves Geeves and Landon. I see Geeves now and again, and I haven't seen Landon since he was puking in a bathroom at our 5 year high school reunion.

The Set-Up
It's the summer after my high school graduation. My parents are on a two week vacation in San Francisco. Fools. I joined them for the first week and had a blast. Matter of fact, I convinced my dad, who's as straight laced as they come, to buy me a two foot bong. "Now son, this will sit on your hutch as a conversation piece." "If I find it's been moved one inch, I'm taking it and breaking it."

No sooner do I get off the plane, arriving to the entourage of friends that pick me up, that I get the "smoking apparatus" out of my luggage and show everyone. " DUDE! Where did you get that?" "When can we try it?" "Does anyone have any weed?"

We manage to supress our desires until we get back to my parents house. I swear to you, the moment we break the plane of the doorjamb, the bowl is filled and the smoke is flowing.

"ACK! HACK! HRMPHHH! CACKLE! COUGH! COUGH!"

"Dude, who's weed is this? THIS IS HARSH! I thought is was supposed to be smooth out of a bong?"

"I don't know man...just fill another bowl. Maybe we need to break it in or something."

Let's just say that at this point in our pot smoking careers, we were uninformed. We didn't put any WATER in the "device", therefore the smoke wasn't too "nice".

Hacking and harshness didn't impede our trip to an elevated plane. We smoked for quite some time and were soon paralyzed by cannabis.

One by one, friends began to leave, and soon I found that Geeves, who didn't smoke, but drank about a case of beer, and Landon, who smoked enough weed to anesthetize a holstein, were dozing off.

I threw a blanket on Landon, who laid on the floor in front of the television, and ignored Geeves, who was audibly snoring on the couch.

All was quiet, and I passed to never-never land.

"GEEVES! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??!! GEEVES! YOU MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!"

I awaken to find Geeves, with one hand resting on the top of the television set (an old wooden Zenith!), bracing himself, and pissing all over the carpet, which was apparently a preferred alternative to Landon, whose head had been resting on the same spot of carpet just instants before.

As piss is trickling down the side of Landon's face, he's hitting Geeves on the calf as hard as possible. Geeves is obviously sleepwalking and can't feel a thing. After he finishes urinating, he taps the volume knob (or toilet handle) and lays back down.

******

The next night, I have the crew over again. As Landon is lying in my room, stoned out of his mind and listening to The Wall on a pair of headphones, Geeves and I fill a dixie cup with warm water and sneak into my room. Landon's in another world right now, and we easily creep into the room and soon find ourselves unnoticed while standing right above him.

It's then that Geeves pours the water, ever so slowly, on Landon's head.

Landon instinctively turns away and mutters "Oh for Christ's sake...not again!"