halfshellvenus | Idol Mini: "Bad Ideas"

Bad Ideas
Idol Mini | Week 11 | 1312 words
Haver (foolish talk)

x-x-x-x-x

Jimmy and I grew up two houses apart on Maplewood Lane. But even if we hadn't, I think we'd still have met somehow and become friends.

We were always over at each other's houses, watching TV or playing pirates or cops and robbers. We rode bikes together, we sledded down hills in winter, and we had squirt-gun fights in the front yard.

Sometimes we just had fun talking. "If Superman was covered in kryptonite and Batman was in his street clothes without any of his toys… which do you think would solve a kidnapping first?" Jimmy might say.

"Neither!" I would answer. "Because Superman can't do anything with kryptonite around, and Batman in street clothes is just Bruce Wayne trying to hide his secret identity."

Or, "How do snakes find other snakes to mate with?" Jimmy would ask. "Can they smell?"

"And what about earthworms?" I would counter. "Can they hear other earthworms? Or do they just bump into each other crawling through the dirt, and decide to go for it?"

You have to realize that before the Internet existed, it was hard to find the answers to weird questions like that. And we had a lot of weird questions.

"Why does Aquaman eat fish? Aren't they his cousins?" Jimmy wondered.

And for me, it was, "Can elephants swim? Or do they just walk on the bottoms of rivers and lakes?"

Now, I'm not saying that all the antics we got up to were genius. I mean, a lot of kids poke at anthills with sticks, but with fire ants, that's not such a good idea. Or the diving contest we held before we learned how to swim– that could've turned out a lot worse. Though I feel like our parents probably should have seen that coming.

Usually, Jimmy would get this random-ass urge to try something, and the next thing you knew, we'd broken something, or we'd be covered head-to-toe in mud. I usually went along with whatever he suggested, but that was my fault. Just because he double-dog-dared me to touch a wasps' nest with my bare hand didn't mean I had to do it.

But not all of the crazy ideas were Jimmy's. I was the one who decided to tease the neighbor's dog through the fence. How was I supposed to know the gate was unlocked? And hiding the frog in Mrs. Flegel's desk was something we planned together. We didn't expect it to jump into her coffee! Luckily, the coffee was cold so the frog was okay–except maybe deaf, afterwards. I can still hear Mrs. Flegel's screech…

And then she sent both of us to the principal's office, even though anyone could've put that frog there. How did she know it was us?

We did sort of develop a reputation, eventually. If the boys' bathroom toilets got jammed with paper towels, or someone's bike wound up in a tree, they'd come looking for us. We knew we deserved it.

As we got older, I thought about cutting down on those pranks. "We'll be graduating this year," I said. "We're practically adults. Don't you think it's time to start acting like it?"

"Cow-tipping is a time-honored tradition," Jimmy replied. "So, get over here and push."

For my parents, the final straw was the day we played hooky and drove to the county fair a couple of towns away. "You're grounded," my dad said. "It's time you started taking life seriously, Jared."

Jimmy's dad was just as angry. "You too," he told Jimmy.

They missed the eyeroll and the quick grin Jimmy gave me, which said, Totally worth it, man!

I agreed with him, until later that night when my dad said, "We want you to stop hanging out with Jimmy for a while. You two bring out the worst in each other."

Boy, it was bad enough being grounded. But not spending time with Jimmy? He was my best friend. Parents shouldn't get to decide who you can be friends with.

As far as my parents knew, we didn't see each other for the next two months. But they didn't count on my sneaking out at night.

Jimmy and I would meet up half a mile away, at the edge of the woods. We went night-swimming in the reservoir a couple of times, and climbed the water tower in the dark. Mostly, we sat around in a grove of boulders and smoked cigarettes or drank beer.

"I kind of wish we hadn't ditched school that day," I said once.

Jimmy snorted. "Not me," he said. "And anyway, they can't tell us what to do…"

By the time we graduated, Jimmy had changed. He was angrier and more impulsive, practically looking for trouble everywhere he went.

I got a job at the local hardware store, and Jimmy worked at Meisner Mechanic, hoping to learn about auto repair. But we still got together on the weekends.

"We're street-racing tonight. You wanna come?" Jimmy asked.

"Are you nuts?" I said. "That shit's crazy-dangerous… Where and when?"

We'd go swimming with friends from high school, or hike along the ridge behind the town. Sometimes we fished from an old rowboat, more an excuse for drinking than anything else.

"This town makes me restless," Jimmy said one night. "Like I'm itchin' to just get on outta here."

"Where would you go?" I asked.

"I dunno. Just somewhere else. Hell, anywhere else," Jimmy said. "There's nothing here for me now, not really. All the girls have either gone away to college or they're already paired up with someone. So where does that leave us?"

Waiting, I thought. Waiting to be noticed, or for a chance to make something happen. Because I'd never planned for this town to be my future either, yet here I was. A lot of other folks could probably say the same.

A couple of weeks later, Jimmy called me at work. "Hey, come with me tonight. I'm gonna sneak Old Man Cleary's GTO out of the garage and race it."

"What?" I said.

"You heard me. That car's fine. It's gonna kick ass."

"You can't do that," I said. "Cleary's got no sense of humor when it comes to that car. He won't even let anyone so much as breathe on it."

"I'm not talking about stealing anything. I'm just borrowing it, and then I'll put it right back when I'm done."

"Don't do it, Jimmy. It's too risky."

Jimmy just laughed and hung up.

I went to the garage as soon as my shift ended, but Jimmy wasn't there. I was too late.

The phone rang a couple of hours later. Jimmy, calling to gloat about winning the race, or so I thought.

"Hey, uh, Jared," Jimmy said. "It's me." I could hear background noise, but it didn't sound like much of a party.

"How much did you win?" I asked.

"Well, I didn't." Jimmy sighed. "Actually, I'm in jail."

"Oh, no…" I said. "The car?"

"Yeah."

Damn it. If only I'd gotten to the garage sooner.

"So, if you could call my parents, I'd appreciate it."

"I take it Mr. Cleary's not in a forgiving mood?"

"Hah," Jimmy said. "No. I may have dented a fender somewhere along the way…"

I called Jimmy's parents afterward. His dad was angry, though he didn't seem surprised. Maybe he'd heard Jimmy mention it–or some other similarly crazy idea. He'd probably hoped, like me, that it was just talk, and that Jimmy wouldn't actually do it. But Jimmy had proved us both wrong.

And just like that, my calendar changed. Instead of hanging out and having fun with Jimmy on the weekends, it looked like I'd be visiting him in prison. Possibly for the next two to five years.

But that was okay, if that was how it had to be.

That was just what friends did for each other.

–/–

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