The blue stuffSubmitted by rats at 2017-03-29 19:35:15 EDT
Rating: 1.0 on 5 ratings (5 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I had wound up in a military academy-boarding school. I had seriously pissed him off this time and was paying for it dearly. I'm not going to get into the details of exactly why I was here but let it suffice to say that my father could have made things MUCH worse for me than being here for three years. If I managed to get through this year, I'd only have one more to go. I do believe I was here to maintain his "image", rather than as a punishment, though. My family is LOADED and after "the incident", it just looked better when your son disappears to a school that's thousands of miles away, instead of a state prison. In short: I'd really done it this time.
It was Saturday morning and I didn't have a damned thing to do for a few hours and that was exactly what I was going to do. Nothing.
I was fooling around with my computer and only half-assedly watching the TV when, out of the blue, Philip, one of my two roommates comes slamming out of the door to his room and proceeds to begin locking up all the various locks he had on the door while at the same time, begins to scream obscenities at me and seriously berate me right in front of my other roommate.
As he finished at the door, he actually came over and leaned down and got right in my face, still screaming at full 120 DB volume. I could barely understand a goddamned word he was saying but I kind of got the drift that I'd somehow pissed him off pretty good. He was borderline hysterical. I had no idea what he was talking about.
Part of what was pissing ME off was the fact that Philip was two years older than I was and at least seven to eight inches taller with about 50 lbs more to beat my ass with. The other reason this was pissing me off so much was the fact that he was doing all of this right in front of my other roommate, Bobby, who was new here and almost two years younger than I was. Philip was scaring the living bejesus out of him.
*Still* screaming his ass off at me and slowly slipping into a full-on RAGE, he then stomped over to the other side of the room where the door leading to the stairs was and nearly went through it without opening it. After the huge SLAM, there was total silence. Bobby was pale as hell and I thought he'd shit himself.
Now, what follows next is one of the reasons why I keep getting in so much goddamned trouble. You'd think that by now, I'd have learned to just "let it go" but no. Not me.
He wasn't out that door ten seconds and I spun around in the desk chair I was sitting in and didn't even get up. I reached down into this pile of crap on the floor (you know, that sort of residual bullshit debris that just builds up around the place in a dorm setting) and I fished out my trusty DeWalt cordless drill. The drill bit that was in it fell to the floor with a "ping" as I released it and then I was fishing through the crap for the one I needed.
I worked on various side projects a lot and always had tools around me. Even tools I didn't need, like Philip.
I found it and put it in the chuck of the drill. It was one of those magnetic bits that you just stick a screw into and drive it into anything. And I mean almost anything. I had been working on two computer cases and had been using sheet metal screws, which I had plenty left over.
I put a large handful of them into my pants pocket and stood up with the drill in my hand. Bobby looked even worse than before. *I* was grinning.
I jammed screws into every keyhole Philip had. The heads would break right off with a little twist of the drill. I drove them right into his doorknob, the padlock, the door, the doorway, the floor in front of his door. Every single lock he had was full of SCREW. I even screwed the hasp under the lock, right to the door. I was finished all of this in less than three minutes. The word "frenzy" comes to mind, and looking at Bobby, the words "needs oxygen now" comes to mind.
Now Bobby starts yelling: "What the hell did you do that for?" "Jesus Christ, he's going to kill you and you're going to get into SO much trouble." "WHAT THE HELL?"
You could just tell he didn't know me very well. Bobby was this short, overweight, obnoxious little guy that probably wasn't as bad as he seemed at first glance but he could sure make a pain in the ass of himself in short order. Since his arrival, I've been trying to gently point out when he's doing things like that.
Philip (Don't call me Phil!!) was eighteen, almost nineteen and had less than two months until graduation. I know he could hardly wait to get out of school and away from ME. Philip is a very good looking, brainless jock that could be compared to an ape that can dress and feed himself and that's about all there is to Philip. I shudder to think of him driving a car or using a chainsaw.
Anyway, Philip was going to need tools that I sure as hell didn't have, just to go to bed tonight. I didn't know what the fuck he was screaming about before but at least *this* time, I'd know for sure. He was going to kill me and the fact of the matter was... he COULD.
The entire school had to be out on the field in full dress uniform by eleven AM for some stupid drill/function thing at noon because a lot of parents were going to be there. (Never my parents, though) I think one of our teams had won some sports event or some bullshit like that. I couldn't care less about it but I had to do it. We didn't really mind because it wasn't "school" and there wasn't too much effort involved.
After a series of mind numbing events - including a coma inducing speech from the headmaster, we all had the rest of the day off and that was a rare occurrence. That just never happened at this place. Not on a Saturday.
I had a friend that lived in another dorm on campus that was into electronica/Techno music and produced a lot of his own mixes and songs with a small studio he had in his room. We (the whole school) all had prior knowledge of this up-coming free time and I had made arrangements to borrow his very nice drum and bass machine. It would plug into my stereo and I'd make an afternoon of it. I could hardly wait.
I'd gone and picked it up and made my way up the FIVE goddamned flights of stairs to my dorm room and had it plugged in, in no time. All the while, Bobby had hardly left my side. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside and he could have gone anywhere... even into town for a few hours. This kid was like a pet dog or something. I took it easy on him though because he obviously didn't make friends too easily and seemed to be afraid of almost everything. I suspect that his parents put him in Military school to "toughen him up" which is always, ALWAYS a BAD idea. You just wouldn't believe how I've seen situations like that, seriously fuck a kid up for good. The goddamned US Army is bad enough but kids are cruel.
Right away, he starts whining about how I should let him use it for a while and I was quick to point out that, that was just the sort of action that was turning people off to him and establishing him as a whiny little bastard, being the whiny little bastard that he is. He backed off but didn't get mad.
At least two hours had passed when the hall door flies open and this chick Karen (also a cadet) comes blasting in, looking for Philip. I tell her he left early and has been gone all day and she turns and starts to leave but stops when she sees Bobby and starts all sorts of crap with him, calling him a little faggot and a pussy and ragging on him about his performance on the field earlier in the day. This went on for about two minutes.
Now even though Karen and I are good friends, she is Philips girlfriend and has even admitted to me on more than a few occasions about what a dumbass he is but I guess the sex is good, assuming he knows what that is yet. I guess she likes them big and dumb but, enough is enough.
Suddenly, she's all pissed off at ME. According to her, it was the tone of voice I used when I told her to "Shut the fuck up and leave him alone." I suppose pointing at the door and yelling "Get the hell out" didn't help either. Thank god she didn't see Philips door.... yet.
Several more hours of me and that machine went by and then I had to return it. Bobby right by my side, all the way over and all the way back.
Now part of the daily routine for me is that I go out in the evening *ALONE* and hang out over at the mess hall which is a little bit less of a "mess" after hours. Everyone's still in uniform (our daily gray standard issue you've seen at every military school) so there's no "dress to impress" going on. A lot of people show up to shoot the shit or engage in other "activities." There are snacks and drinks and sometimes it's almost like a pub. It's also nice and warm in there in the winter time and I really dig that. I have no problem with a room being almost eighty degrees when it's nine degrees outside. It's a good feeling. I love it. Sometimes, it's the littlest things in life.
Philip often went over there too, but we never, ever went together. Besides, he always had to go get Karen first. I almost felt sorry for her, being anchored to him as there were at least ten other guys that were just drooling over her and I'm sure she knew it. The M/F ratio here is about 9 to 1. I said "almost felt sorry."
Bobby had gotten into a TV rut since his arrival and never went out in the evening so, I have been trying to help him with his computer skills, if for no other reason than to let him meet some people. Even digital people are better than NO people. I have no idea what this kid is into or what he used to do for fun but surely, at his age, he should have known plenty of computer literate kids to give him a hand. His brand new computer was used for homework assignments and little else.
Anyway, this particular night, I got ready to go out, full well knowing that it would be the LAST time I got to go out for quite a while, between the door situation and the fact that Philip might actually kill me this time, what with throwing his girlfriend out on top of everything else. Yes, I was in trouble again and it was no news to me. It hardly ever was.
I arrived at the mess hall and the place was packed already. I think it was because everybody had so much free time today and had taken care of everything else. You know... homework, laundry, putting sheet metal screws into doors, etc.
The mess hall itself is set up fairly straight forward. There are just rows and rows of tables that seat six people, three on each side, facing each other. They had an internal sound system that actually wasn't too bad and the music was pretty good but it was only used in the evenings when the place was run by student government.
As I walked in, several people let me know right away, that they knew it was me that had the drum/bass machine this afternoon. They weren't complaining so much as letting me know that I really had some range with that thing. My father did see to it that I have a huge stereo as he knows how much it means to me.
I looked around and found some friends and sat down. In a normal night down here, I'll just keep changing seats and visiting with all sorts of people. It took me a long time to make these friends and I aimed to keep them. I seemed to be well liked but, I could never tell for sure. A lot of these people were hard to read.
And then there's the "BLUE". The fucking "BLUE".
When I first arrived at this academy, the Headmaster, instructors, teachers and especially cadets warned me about this substance called "BLUE". It's a thick liquid, sort of between cough syrup and motor oil and a fairly small amount will get you very high. They let me know right away that the school does not even deal with "BLUE" cases. They just call the police and press charges. No exceptions. You can get caught with pot or beer and live to tell about it, but if you get caught with "BLUE", you are done for. You are not coming back.
So, that being said, *of course* I had a bottle of "BLUE" with me. It was widespread at this place and pretty much everybody knew who "did" and who "didn't."
I had been there at least two hours by now and I had sat down in the middle seat at a table that someone I know was sitting at but I hadn't really looked around the whole table yet because I was heavy into conversation and because I was getting pretty damned high about now.
They had set out these baskets of bread and crackers on the tables along with various things to put on them like cheese, peanut butter, jam, etc. There were all sorts of things to drink. Everybody was eating this stuff up and occasionally, I'd put a drop or two of "BLUE" on a cracker along with whatever I was eating on it and "down the hatch." Plenty of others were doing this, too. It was Saturday night,
Like I said, I had a very good buzz about now when all of a sudden, I started to choke. Bad. I was really jumping around and I saw the "BLUE" shit splatter all over the table but there wasn't a thing I could do about it as I was REALLY choking.
This caught the academy "monitor" guys' eye, right away and he was headed over in my direction. This guy looks like Herman Munster and can tear your head off. He's getting closer and closer and suddenly, right before my eyes, at the last possible moment, I see the guy who's sitting directly across from me begin to move his arms and hands. That's all I saw was his arms and hands... just moving in one smooth motion. In about a damned nanosecond, he managed to put plates, cups, bowels, crackers... anything on top of all the "BLUE" spots that were all over the table.
Just as the monitor gets to the table, I'm beginning to recover and I see one big spot of "BLUE" left on the table and the same guy, directly across from me, puts his elbows up on the table and rests his chin on his hands and drops a god damned bottle cap right on top of it. A perfect shot! And as if that's not enough already, I look up at the guy and it's Philip! HOLY SHIT! The look on his face!
I am quickly regaining my voice now and I "off" the monitor as fast as I can, letting him know that everything was OK.
The rush of adrenalin plus the chance of being caught with "BLUE" plus being totally stoned on "BLUE" already had me spinning but it was when I looked back at Philip that things got even stranger. The look on his face was the first time that I couldn't tell what he was thinking. The very thought that I had been sitting at a table getting high with Philip and not even knowing it was almost too much to digest. And he WAS high, too! I had NO IDEA he would do anything like that. He had always been straight edge and would never do any drugs or drink, EVER. Or that's what I thought. I had been living with him for almost two years. But that fucking look on his face.... what the hell was that? Philip had just saved my ass from certain doom and I think he was smiling at me.
I finally stood up and shook his hand, thanking him repeatedly but he never said a word. I gave him my bottle of "BLUE" and he accepted it with a smile. I cleaned up the "BLUE" off the table, off of everything. Twice. Then, I had to get out of there.
I'm walking home at a fairly slow pace, thinking things over, totally racked with guilt over what I had done to the door that belonged to the guy who had just saved me from prison, probably. It's freezing cold and I can't feel a thing. What the hell am I going to do?
I get back to the dorm and the god damned FIVE flights of stairs felt like twenty five. I'm walking down the hall towards the room and I can see an unusually high amount of light coming from under the door... and the TV's NOT on. It takes me a damn day to get my keys out and the right one in the lock but as I begin to do that, I hear rustling around inside the place. I hear Bobby ask: "Who's that?" and I belched out: "It's me." and he finishes opening up all the stupid locks we have.
As I step into the main room, which is the large room that the three bedrooms are off, on one side, with a private door for each one, I see where he has every damn light in the whole place turned on and he's not wearing a shirt AND he's sweating. I'm wondering if he's obtained some "BLUE".
I turned and locked the door that I just came through and started into the main room, taking off my coat when.... I saw it.
I could not believe this kid. There was a 40 inch wrecking bar lying on the kitchen table. Lord only knows where the hell he got that from. The little bastard actually managed to extract Philips door out of the doorway - without taking the doorway with it- and he had re-hung the door from MY room onto Philips doorway, using all the tools I had lying around. He was busy putting in the last screws into one of the hinges. It even actually latched closed, perfectly! The screws in the floor were gone. He had been busting his ass for hours. I had certainly found ONE thing that this obnoxious little bastard was good at and that was woodworking.
Now, I'm walking around in total shock when he starts yelling at me: "I just want to keep the peace. You better knock this crap off. They'd throw you right out for destruction of property you know. Fucking idiot."
Bobby! Yelling at ME! I had never seen him look so serious before and he didn't even know about the "BLUE" incident, yet. Plus, he's waving this big goddamned screwdriver in his hand while he's yelling all of this at me and I'm still pretty high and through my eyes, this is starting to look pretty scary.
He continued:" You're my best friend at this god forsaken place and I don't want to lose you. Now help me clean up this mess. Philips' door is under your bed and we can put new locks on this one tomorrow. He'll yell and scream about it for about an hour and then I thought maybe we could go over and see the guy with the drum machine......"
Let's just say that I've learned a thing or two, through this day. 1) NEVER underestimate big, stupid dumbasses. 2) NEVER underestimate whiny little bastards.
I called my mother late Sunday night (She always took bad news or pleas for money much more easily than the old man) and told her about the door incident and what Bobby did for me and I asked her to do me a favor.
Tuesday afternoon, FedEx delivered Roland's top of the line drum/bass machine to Bobby's mailbox.
As for Philip, he wasn't nearly as pissed off as I thought he would be and after about a week, we were laughing about it. (Not to mention the fact that the half bottle of "BLUE" I'd given him was worth well over $200.00) He began being civil to me and I stopped writing phone messages to him and spelling his name as "FILL-UP". Actually, he really warmed up to me after a while and I stopped being such a dick to him, only to be surprised to find that he did, indeed, have a brain. He didn't even put all those locks back on.
On a Friday night, two weeks before graduation, I was just getting back from eating at the mess and was starting to get ready to go out and Philip calls me out to the kitchen (that we never use) and I thought it odd that he was home because, on a Friday night he was always long gone by now, with the love of his life, Karen.
I start walking over towards the kitchen, past Bobby, who has that drum/bass machine cranked up- into headphones and is "grooving". I step into the kitchen and Philip is just standing there, grinning. He says: "I'm going to miss you." and there on the table (which was so clean, I never knew what color it was before) sat two six packs of DAB beer, a pack of crackers and a FULL bottle of "BLUE". Neither of us went anywhere that night and I am still in touch with Philip to this day.