On my travels through my computer’s hard drives and flash drives, I’ve stumbled upon some really weird crap. First there was Goodbye My Sweet, a tragic tale of a man who simply can’t handle loss. I even found Rabbit and Future but that Slim Shady movie that came out weeks after I wrote it prevents it from ever being published. Then I found this weird story.
Also written in 2002, it’s a true story about a strange night in 1996. I was 15 years-old. Some friends and I were all hanging out. Some of my friends were into doing crazy shit — like drink bottles of cough syrup or huff gas until you couldn’t smell it anymore. That was never my style but I couldn’t avoid going along for the ride. How could I not want to see what kind of crazy stuff they would get into?
Although I was never part of their over-the-counter intake adventures, they did provide me with enough adventure to fill a book. Or at least a small shitty book (drew with Paint mind you). I drew this about 8 years ago, while I was taking a trip down memory lane. It’s a rocky trip but I recalled this particular night and had to lay it on digital paper. Looking back on these illustrations, I find it hard to tell which character is which. See if you can tell.
See if you care.
But what did I learn through all of this? I saw kids doing crazy shit when I was still one of them. I never put a bottle of cough syrup to my lips for anything other than fighting a cold. I’ve never done anything with gasoline that didn’t involve keeping a car alive.
Life was always too hilarious for that. It still is.