Wednesday, September 8, 2010

2. Stinky Friend

2. Stinky Friend
I have other friends besides Luke, you know.  I just like him the best.  Some friends you just have to be friends with because you have to be.  My friend Lawrence was a nice guy and everything, but he was always coughing.  He smelled like smoke too, because he lived in a hotel.  It wasn’t a cool hotel like when my family goes to Disneyland.  It was more like the hotels that are along the freeway in not very nice areas.  The lobby smelled like smoke and the outside of the hotel was bright yellow.  My mom always talked about how ugly the paint color was, but I always tried to stick up for the place a little bit.  I don’t like when people talk about things in a bad way all the time.  He always liked coming over to my house, but he smelled so bad.  My mom always says that I need to bring him over more often, because I think she feels sorry for him.  My mom is always too nice.  I swear, I could break her favorite coffee table and she would just say, “Oh, it’s okay.  It’s just a table.”  Sometimes I wish that she would get mad just one time, just so I could see what it would be like. 

“Hey Ty, can I spend the night tonight?” Lawrence asked.

“Yeah, my mom said you can come over anytime dude.”

“Cool, I will be over in a few hours.”
     That day was seriously scary weather.  I love storms, but this one was shaking the house and the lights were flickering.  Everything was whistling outside and stuff was flying past the windows all afternoon.  Lawrence knocked on the door of my big, white, three-story house.  I could hear him walking up the long gravel driveway, so there really wasn’t any reason for him to knock.  My mom opened it and said, “Oh my gosh, Lawrence, you’re soaking wet!  Tyler can give you some dry clothes.  Who dropped you off?” She looked out the window to try and see if a car was pulling out of the driveway.

“I walked here,” he said bluntly.

“You walked…?” my mom inquired nervously.  “That’s ten miles, Lawrence.  We would have come and picked you up if you needed a ride!”

“Thanks, but my mom said if I wanted to come over that I would have to walk.  She doesn’t want me to accept handouts from people.”
     I could tell my mom didn’t know what to say, because she sort of just stuttered out a few words,

“Well…okay…I…Tyler, go grab some clothes for him,” my mom commanded.

Lawrence was a lot shorter than me.  He had lightning-blonde hair just like me, but he was always really pale.  Even at age ten, he had a lot of acne and really greasy hair.  I didn’t like to hug him too much, because then I kind of started to smell like he did.  I always wondered if he spent a few days at my house, if he’d start to smell like me.     

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