Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Harry

From: bg19354@binghamton.edu.NoMoReDaMnSpAm (Nully Fydyan)

Date: 13 Nov 97 23:38:02 GMT

 

"Did I ever tell you about Harry?" I ask, trying to illustrate my

point. He shakes his head no, and I continue, dragging the memories up.

"We were friends since second grade, maybe, when he moved onto my block

and we discovered we shared an interest in basketball and a hatred of

girls." I shrug, laughing about it now. "I mean, we were seven. Anyway,

we grew up together, practically in sync. For years we were in all the

same classes, and we played together almost every day. Baseball,

football, soccer, and of course, basketball. He was really good at

getting all the guys in the neighborhood together for games. By fifth

grade we were inseparable. If I wasn't at home I'd be at Harry's house,

and vice versa. Even our parents became friends. He was such a part of

my life I can't believe I've never mentioned him. Are you sure?" He

shakes his head again, and I pick up the story.

 

"After sixth grade we went into junior high. Things were a little

different. You know, nine classes a day, and a lot of teachers, but we

still had a couple of classes together. Besides, we always played after

school anyway. We still loved basketball, though he much more than I, and

we suddenly found that we both loved girls. We weren't together as much,

but we were together enough. It wasn't a friendship that required much

effort. We were friends, we hung out, that was it.

 

"Once we got to high school, though, things changed. I had tested

well, and ended up in all the "smart" classes. That's what Harry called

them, anyway. He didn't care one way or another, except he said the girls

were hotter where he was. I didn't agree, but never said anything. At

that point we had already started to differ. His love of sports had

carried through, and while I was hitting the books he was practicing for

basketball. By senior year he played center on the school team while I

was number three in the class. We ran into each other occasionally,

always friendly, as the bond of our shared childhood dictated. It wasn't

that we had any reason to be unfriendly, just indifferent. Our social

contact had dwindled to nil three years ago.

 

"So you can imagine how surprised I was when he showed up at my door

one day. He was on his way to practice, he said, and couldn't stay, but

he had found this notebook on the way home. My name was in the front

cover. He thrusted it in my hands and sprinted back down the path,

shouting over his shoulder that he was late for practice.

 

"It was my journal, my idea book. Even back then I was having ideas.

I would always write them down, elaborately planned, and if I implemented

them, I would write that down as well. Some of what later became my most

well known acts were based on ideas in that book. I didn't know how it

had gotten out of the house, because I never would have brought it to

school. I also didn't know how long Harry had actually had it for. If he

had somehow gotten it, why would he given it back immediately? There was

no doubt in my mind he had read it, and I was quite sorry about that, for

he had been a good friend once, and I didn't want to kill him."

--

Rev. Nully Fydyan

(temporary guy)

Church of the Ungendered Yeti

"There's a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." -- Leonard Cohen