Singing Loudly

It was a sunny afternoon, and I just got a new boom box that would play my two CDs. I took off towards my middle school playground with my friend Justin. We were playing Ace of Base because there is nothing better to woe girls with than that song, "The Sign."

The boom box was resting on my shoulder because that is how I saw people doing it in those cheesy 80 movies. I was also wearing a trench coat. I'm not sure why I was wearing a trench coat, but I would wear it occasionally. I think I was confused about being a nerd (on the academic bowl team, doing Odyssey of the Mind, et al), a semi-jock (one of the top mile runners in middle school!), wanting to kiss girls in the playground (never happened), and wanting to be an alternative goth type person. Remember: I watched The Crow about 15 times in one month. This wasn't just an obsession -- it was a disease.

I had a point.

Right, off with this boom box on my shoulder that weighted about 300 lbs. If you only knew how many C batteries I had to dump into this pile of shit. Justin and I were kicking rocks like little wannabe thugs as we walked down the sidewalk that lead to the park.

"Life is demanding without understanding
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes"

We were thugs.

Soon, however, we were at the middle school playground where we encountered a couple real thugs. It was a stoner named Dusty who was rumoured to have punched a cop. He was gone from school for about two weeks after the supposed event. He came back as a fiction of our own hysteria.

Dusty was with his short and hapless friend, Milt. I'm not sure why he called himself Milt but I would always call him Built to mock how little he was in stature.

They reeked of marijuana and wanted to know why we were idiots. I responded by kicking a rock.

I snorted, "Why are you smoking Mary Jane at the playground on a Saturday?"

They both laughed at me and Justin looked at me in an odd way. I started to think about what an idiot I really was. I turned off Ace of Base (or maybe the batteries died) and set down the boombox. Dusty pointed at it and told Built to get it. Build isn't one to disobey, so he reached down and picked up my shitty boom box. I think that the weight must have surprised him because he had to set it back down and get a better hold of it.

They walked off with my boom box to go and smoke weed while listening to Ace of Base. Justin suggested that maybe we should go back to his place and play Super Nintendo.

I agreed.

Today I'm thankful that I don't wear stupid trench coats and that I don't get into situations where people try to steal my iPod or Cell Phone, which seems to be becoming a bit of a trend. It is thoughtful that Steve Jobs gave a grieving father a call to offer his condolences on the murder of a this father's son due to an iPod theft.