Just Four Words
This story is, as I recall, true in its entirety, Jed, if I have left anything out that you wish to mention, inform me, and I will do an update.
It was Sunday the 9th of September, 2007. Jed and I had just got done going on what most people would consider (looking from the outside) a date. We went to Sonic, picked up some ice cream and drove around town in his truck. Upon my arrival home, Jed had said something to me. I can't remember what, and I doubt he does either, but it was the start of a week that will be remembered for ages to come, merely because I feel we started a fucking tradition that both of us are going to hate ourselves for starting. Anyways, he said those words, whatever those words may be, and it provoked me. It provoked me to the point to take my ice cream, what was left of it, and fling it via spoon on his truck. As I walked around the truck to return to my place of residence, he, literally, backed into me with his truck. Did that fucker just get b'Rock? Not only did he get b'Rock, he got him good. No matter how much ice cream I retaliated with, it could not beat being run over by his fucking douche bag black truck. This was unacceptable.
One phone call was all it took to start this tradition. This war. This feud between two best friends that would be remembered like the great William Faggot Wallace.
And that phone call only consisted of four words.
"Game on mother fucker."
Monday
I went to work. Immediately. The clock had just struck midnight as I walked into our neighborhood Wal-Mart, and my target was pranking devices. If you are ever in need of a pranking tool, Wal-Mart is definitely the place for this sort of shopping. Now, mind you, when we said "Game on" we later established rules.
1) Nothing Destructive.
2) Nothing that would hinder everyday obligations (school, work, ect...).
Other that that, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, was fair game. Window chalk, Mickey Mouse stickers, the works. Glitter, had it not been so damn expensive for such a small amount, would have also been in my concoction of destruction, but alas, it was not worth my pretty penny.
I drove to his house. I applied my receipt of disaster. But who would believe me? How did I claim such a worthy mark? That's right bitches. I took pictures.
Now, I know what you are thinking. "Is that a Vaseline covered tampon tied to the antenna of a car, wrapped neatly inside a spermicidal lubricated Magnum condom?"
Yes. Yes it is.
This would be the front of his truck. For those of you having a hard time reading it, it says "PENIS IS AWESOME!" along the front of his wind shield, and down the side it says "Love your BFF," topped off with condoms on the wind shield wipers.
This is the right side. On the window to your left, you will see Princess Cinderella, and "Gay is better" in Mickey Mouse spelling stickers along the bottom. I hope you know what the shape is on the window to the right. Because it's a huge penis. Couple of hairs there. And yes, The Little Mermaid swimming around in the balls IS directly symbolic of his ability to take large amounts of sperm down his throat. The guy makes it look like a profession.
The left. "I luv men" and "Game on, XOXO."
This says "I Love Shopping" in those Mickey Mouse spelling stickers. And yeah, another tampon, under that door handle, which is also drenched in Vaseline.
Every door handle had a tampon and Vaseline by the way. This was marvelous, because even though he ran me over and initiated the game, I was the one to get the first official hit.
9 hours later, he got his revenge. I was dead in my sleep, dreaming of what his face would look like the following morning, when I heard my doorbell ringing obnoxiously outside my closed bedroom door. I arose such as a zombie does from the dead and did a drunken waltz towards my door. I peeked through the front door window to see if he had any weapons of despair awaiting me behind the deadbolt that separated the two of us. He appeared clean.
ALAS! Hidden in his back pocket lied a tube of Colgate!
The toothpaste was cold. Icy cold. It made me appear as though I had sneezed peroxide and a mixture of other chemicals on my own face.
Here's the thing: I, more clever in my daily ordeals, had a tendency to bigger, well thought out plans of execution. Jed, an improviser of sorts, kept to his bullshit pranks, but kept them coming nonetheless. Do not underestimate the power of Jed and his toothpaste, shaving cream, stinky socks, ect... they just might prevail.
We go out to my car. Awaiting me, on my door handle, was a copy cat piss poor version of my Vaseline trick. He had taken the same toothpaste that ended up on my face, back, and shoulders and applied it to the door handle. I'll give him this... I didn't see it coming.
The remainder of the day was uneventful. It consisted of us annoying each other and avoiding each other at the same time, nothing noteworthy.
Tuesday
We were done with school, so Jed comes over. We decide to go out to eat. There it was, once again, engulfing my door handle. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, but now I'm going to fuck your ass up.
It was payback. I had to wash off this factor oozing down the side of my car, and thats when the chicken was done. It hit me like a Ferrari going 120 down the highway and nailing a light pole like Clinton nailed Lewinsky, and it was awesome. I grabbed the hose. I first sprayed his door, making sure he could not get out and run a distance greater than the radius of my jet stream. He was stuck, and he knew it. I went around to the drivers side and I was close enough that if he did get out, he was going to get soaked. I sprayed off the gunk, and then looked at him. He looked back. It was at this moment that we communicated everything that would happen in the next 5 minutes with a mere stare. He gazed my way as though he were a deer in the headlights. His facial expression said "You wouldn't." Mine shouted the opposite, present with a reference to revenge. What did his stare say you ask? It stated, verbatim: "You wouldn't dare open that fucking car door and spray my ass to hell and back with that water hose. You wouldn't soak your own car!"
And what did my stare say in response?
"Yes I would."
Jed had underestimated me. I unlocked the door with my keys, and I let loose inside my median for transportation. He bent to the side, where his head was facing towards the hose, put his hands on his head, and pretty much squirmed around like a little bitch for a good 20 seconds. I sprayed and I sprayed, until I thought he was good and wet. And then, once I figured he had been dealt with, I continued my havoc upon him for the mere shit of it.
Ladies and gentleman, I am not finished. My plans were elaborate, genius if you will. I told him that the toothpaste was not completely gone, and a car wash was in store. Little did he know, and I have yet to tell him to this day, that was a total fucking lie. It was off. All of it. He will find out when he reads this story.
To the car wash we went. I paid, via debit card, and inside we went. He was oblivious to what was coming next. In the middle of the wash, there was a jet that shot good old fashion soap straight at the windows, as would any normal car wash. I have automatic windows in my car. Can you put two and two together?
I slowly made my way to the button that sealed his fate. I kept his attention by talking bullshit. Then the classic squeak that my car makes when the windows retract into their base echoed throughout my car. He turned to his right. I still remember his facial expression to this day, and I will never forget it. It was a face of complete confusion, total surprise, and, without sound, you could hear it say "What the FUCK?!"
Soap was everywhere. His face, the dashboard of my car, and a tiny bit even made its way to my shirt. It was spectacular.
To pay for my own misdeeds, he took my CD's in the middle of the ride to Wings to Go, our restaurant of choice, and threw them all over the place. Asshole. He broke the rule of "nothing destructive," but given the recent shitty McShit I just put him through, he was forgiven. And I more or less laughed at this lame attempt at reconciliation, I'm still in the lead.
At the restaurant, I paid my dues. Our chairs were red, and as I went to refill my drink, not thinking, I came back calm, and sat down. For those of you who have never seen ketchup before, it is also red, about as red as the chairs. Even if i had checked, I probably would not have noticed. On it I sat and saturated in, and after I wiped my ass, I ate. Again, Jed, his laugh filled with evil and darkness, said that he spat in my food. I don't believe him to this day, mainly because when Jed lies, it's obvious. Terrible liar.
The next three days, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, were also uneventful. We had annoyed each other with tasks not worth mentioning. But I wanted to go out big. I wanted to completely fuck with Jed's head. I wanted him to suffer. The last hit was mine...
That Thursday, I had mentioned that my cousin from Alaska was coming to town. She would be down October 4th, since that's when she was off school and she hadn't seen my family in ages. Jed took it into his initiative to add my cousin on MySpace and somehow they started talking.
My cousin and him hit it off, fairly intensely to my dismay. She had found him attractive, and he of course thought she was OK, and everyone knows what happens when two people love each other physically. But there is a fact about Jed that needs to be brought to the table: Jed follows his penis. Where ever it may be pointing at any given moment in time, he goes in that direction. If there's pussy on the moon, he's going for it. I've seen that man run, jump, and skip his way into a vagina, and this is the main point to this part of the story.
So me and my cousin talked about him, and apparently she wanted to hook up with him. This wasn't fucking cool. The week had ended already, and this was unacceptable because it ended on a "Dude, we need to stop before we start hating each other." She told me about how she was going to blow him. He told me about how she was going to blow him. What is a man to do in my position?
As you all have read, I am no mere human. I am a piece of awesome. I have received my gift from the divine, and I use it well.
October 4th had arrived. The moment of truth was here, and me and Jed waited until 6:30 in my room for my cousins plane to arrive. It was then that we got in my car and we drove to the airport.
I pulled up to the terminal, and it was here my plan unfolded.
Me: "Dude, go find her."
Jed: "What? Fuck you, just park."
Me: "Just go find her, Jesus, there's no parking anywhere and I'll be right back."
Jed exits my vehicle.
Mission Accomplished.
Did you figure it out?
My cousin wasn't coming. She wasn't there at the airport. We coordinated everything, from the adding of Jed to her MySpace, to the conversations, and the blowing. There wasn't a conversation I didn't hear about. I called her to let her know he was looking for her at the airport, looking like a fuck head. I left the airport, went home, and awaited his call. It was about 30 minutes before I came back.
He threw my boot out the window on the way out of the airport after I picked him up. He's a poor sport.
And to think... All of this because of just four words.