Jason Rodriguez - The Moose in the Closet: My B, B

Two weeks left to the Moose. I’m excited. Monday's story may be late, spending some time out of the city with the Lady.

Story time…

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I think I’ve grown over the past year. There’re two weeks left, I’ve written over 240 stories so far, there’s no way I haven’t grown. At the same time, though, this little writing experiment has proven to be wicked therapeutic. I’ve learned a lot about myself and my relationships and in some instances I’ve come to realize that I was the asshole.

Like with B, for instance.

B stopped talking to G and I sophomore year in college – no return phone calls or emails. G and I always assumed it was because we played strip poker with his girlfriend. Hell, we were told that by his boy Jimmy. But already on this site I told the story about how we almost killed him and I now realize that there might have been other things that sent the relationship sour.

Like Speed Pool, for instance. B was the only friend of ours with a pool table so we always found ourselves getting a game on at his place. Sometimes that game would turn into Speed Pool which is regular 8-ball accept if you hit the cue ball after it stops moving you scratch. Whereas it’s a remarkably fun game the ball has a tendency to fly off the table, hit people and, at least once a game, put a hole in a wall. We put quite a few holes in his wall.

There was also the chauffer factor – B was one of the few kids with a car and he was also the only one that didn’t drink so we had him drive our asses all over Brooklyn, calling him up in the middle of the night like he was our own personal car service, inviting ourselves out to his place in Bay Ridge but insisting that he picked us up first. I can imagine that would get pretty annoying.

He was also one of the first kids to have AOL and we’d always use his screen name to either talk shit to the people on his buddy list or to have cybersex with someone who claimed to be 17 and a female – he’d always get weird IMs pop up from people asking if he wanted to have another go and he would have no idea what they were talking about.

One time a bunch of us were hanging out at his place and while he was out doing something we ordered a porno movie through his cable box. It was over in five minutes and someone dared me to order another one so I did. At the end of the month 16 dollars in porno movies showed up on his mother’s bill and we had to fess up – he wasn’t too happy about that, obviously.

And then there was the whole “taking Mike over to his place so the mother can patch him up after he got shot in the neck” deal.

On the whole, I think you can say we were bad friends to B.

Then there was the fact that he started dating Jackie who, back then, I had a bit of a thing for. I don’t know, it wasn’t a “thing” thing but there was certainly a little bit of thing – certainly a level of jealousy, like I was stuck at the friend level and yet he managed to find some way to jump it.

And then you take that into consideration and you look at everything else, all the attempted murders and strip poker games, and you start to realize that maybe, just maybe, that was behind it all.

And you realize that for the past eight years, the reason you and B stopped talking may not have been as cut and dry as saying, “I saw his ex-girl’s titties and her fine, fine ass.”

But, the fact of the matter is – I did see his ex-girl’s titties and her fine, fine ass.

And they were good.

Either way, my b, B. Too late now, I doubt you read this site, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry.

And that your ex-girl’s titties were spectacular.

Labels: mitc

My B, B

Friday, January 20, 2006

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