First Nicotine Dream I've been able to remember for quite some time now. Here goes...
I was at my friend Jared's with other mutual friends. We were playing guitars, drinking whiskey and doing what we do best: being loud and out of control. When out of nowhere people that I hadn't seen since High School start popping up left and right. I felt intimidated. I hated these people then, and I hated them now (with the exception of a few). Most of these people were previous jocks. Peaking in High School and now having nothing to show but a minimum wage job and 4 kids. Now, that's not intended to make me sound as if my life has been any different since High School. I work full-time, have a son and try to maintain a some kind of social status (usually manifested through social media because it does not require me to actually deal with people face to face). I can't say my financial status is the greatest, but my job allows me to take care of what is important while trying to set up for the future.
Anyway, back on to the subject. I got up from the couches we were sitting around which were older, faded cloth that had definitely seen better days, and moved along with the group to the backyard. Now, I've seen my friend's backyard. It's spacious and at the time I had saw it, it was covered in snow because it was just before Christmas. But, when I gazed at it this time around it was mid-summer. There were seats circling the center of the lot and flowing down into a mud pit. At this point I was immediately reminded of the stadium seating at the Bear Lake lodge my family goes to for reunions every year. On the back of the house was a wooden porch with couches, and places to lounge. All with a perfect view of this Colosseum themed mud pit. Within the pit, the seating reminded me of a baseball stadium. The lined the walls, all the way down to the bottom. The next thing I knew I was front roll next to my friend Jared, surrounded by the football team I was loathed in High School.
Everyone wanted to reminisce of the "glory days" they lived almost 10 years ago. I wanted to punch every single one of them in the jugular. The arrogance the flew. The overwhelming feeling of being demoted back to where I once was, was too great. Right as I was about to open up the mouth I had found a use for since those years, the cheering started. I turned around and there he was.
He was large, young, wearing a navy blue hooded zip up sweater and the water he was treading in came just under his waist line. He was carrying two minions wearing smeared face paint, from what looked like the mud surrounding the wooden pool of water they were being dragged through, under his giant arms. He took two massive steps and raised his shoulders and uncurled his arms, exchanging his grip of the two minions to their upper left and right arms. What happened next surprised me to now end. He raised the two above his head and threw them into the shallow water. Everyone cheered.
The event had just begun.
Just then another 10-15 minions come running into the water and attacking him at his legs. He picked them up and repeated the same throwing motion as he had previously. Over and over, the minions came and he conquered. A spectator thought it would be a good idea to take the man by surprise. Needless to say, he didn't last very long. From the side of me I hear "Isn't he a DJ at some club?" Another voice verifies, "Yeah, I just saw him last weekend." I was literally watching a 300+ pound disc jockey pulverize anyone coming into his wooden pool kingdom.
A mother came climbing up the stadium seating carrying two or three of the minions, weeping. Everyone she passed were giving their apologies and condolences. It was then I had realized that the minions were actually adopted children from Africa. Explaining their mud war paint and lack of fear to charge a man 4 times their size in height and weight.
All I could do at this point was watch as this mother carried her children away from this sport, and off to care for their bruises. I was in complete and total shock.
I observed the crowd for a while longer while spotting people that I once knew, and finding they were living up to everything I thought they were 10 years ago. "What a complete waste of human beings." I kept thinking to myself. I turned and looked my friend dead in the eyes, and he knew without me having to say a word what my thoughts my were and the rage that was building inside of me. I turned to leave and while pushing past my former classmates met the shoulder of the person I had always held the most spite for. We made eye contact for a brief moment and as I was making my way again, he grabbed my arm and spun me around. With all the years passing I could have cared less if this person tried to make amends or tried to attack me, but I was on the ready for a brawl if this went south. To my surprise he looked at me and then down again. I noticed the cloth draped over the small child, much like the rest of the little fighters I had seen being pulled from the blood bath wooden pool. I ripped my arm out of his hand, picked up the child and ran. He never stopped me. He wanted me to remove this poor soul for if he had stayed, he would have been next in line for beating from the Loch Ness monster down below.
I strapped the little boy into my car and left. We drove for hours, never stopping.
We just drove.
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