money. for the proper definition, please see
skrill.
but on to
synchronicity..
skrilla is
my best friend. i'm not a drooling capitalist or anything; his real name's frank. or frankie louis, cause
he hates that. i'm waiting for him to call me back.
i met skrilla my
freshman year in high school. we had
washington state history together and he and
this fucker dave would make fun of me when i came to school dressed up for
debate. eventually, he was my first boyfriend.
my first kiss. my first lots of things. and for a while we hated each other, but eventually we were setting each other up with other friends and skating together in the evening and
getting high in the parking lot on our lunch break.
the first time i saw him outside of school, we were at a party at our friend
denise's. everyone had
a forty of mickeys, and people were playing music in the living room. incredibly
drunk, me and skrilla and shawn (the
uber-punk), walked down to the end of the cul de sac. and
shawn wandered off to take a piss and never came back. so skrilla and i walked to the home of another kid we knew,
jess, who we hated. and we threw rocks at his window until he woke up, and then cursed at him and flipped him off and ran away. we went back to
denise's and sat on the couch. skrilla jumped up in the air, screaming 'aieeee!
spider!' and there was no spider. i know
you had to be there, but it counted.
i made him a t-shirt, with fingernail polish, that said '
cool beans.' he still wears it.
his band wrote a song about me, after we broke up.
one afternoon, we were going out to the parking lot to get high. skrilla and
dave were ahead of me and
jeremiah. we could see them across the parking lot. and we saw
security come after them. by the time the guard reached the car, they had already started. we stood
paralyzed, not knowing what to do,
feeling guilty. we kept walking away from school, to a park nearby. and we saw the
cops come. and he got
arrested. that night,
we all went out and got drunk. he smelled like a jail cell.
in
tacoma, we were walking around with
amanda, and were approached by this guy. he says, 'do you kids get high? don't worry,
i'm a nice black man.'
skrilla went off with him to get some weed. after walking around aimlessly for a while,
amanda and i caught up to him. he was sitting on a patch of dirty grass, looking
apprehensive.
'did you get it?' i asked.
'he's coming back.'
'you're gonna buy it out here?' it was a
busy street, lots of people walking by.
'no, i already gave him the money. he just went to get it.'
oh, frank..
we threw rocks at the guy's window and he shouted for us to
go away. we got into the apartment building, but he wouldn't answer the door, and we were just
scared high school kids. for a long time, until it was dark, we sat on the sidewalk, hoping he would come out. eventually we got
back on the bus.
he was born
a week before me, to the day, and we got our
tattoos together. skrilla never paid for his, because
the tattoo artist ran off to mexico shortly thereafter.
he's dating a girl i call
n'sync girl cause i can never remember her name and he's in a band called
buddy ravel. i never see him anymore.