The salad days.

Even when he was cranked up, I loved the big dummy. Terrance always made me laugh. We looked out for each other. I had a lot to drink and passed out on his couch. He was tweaking and decided he needed to do something to kill the time while I slept it off. I woke up and everything in the living room was hanging from the ceiling. In my morning still drunk from the night before state I couldn’t figure out how the hell I ended up upside down. He just sat there with this evil smile tapping his fingers on the armrest like a madman. I sat there wondering how the hell I slept through all the hammering.

He always gave me a place to stay when times were hard. We were so poor that all we ate for a week were Tabasco butter sandwiches. The toilet seat wasn’t attached to the toilet. When we sat we had the risk falling off. We had to use phonebook pages for toilet paper. We washed our clothes in the bathtub. When we took showers we agitated the clothes with our feet. We stunk. We had no girlfriends or money. We had no car. We walked everywhere. But we had beer. We always had beer. To hell with poverty, let’s get drunk.

We spent most of our time listing to music and sleeping. I don’t think either one of us would go back and change anything. We had fun, two poor fucks that were each others entertainment.