I’d even let him use our good stemware.
And there’d be tortilla strips and guacamole on the coffee table and Dylan on the stereo and I’d tell him how much frickin’ work it is to type his name every time I have to mention him...
We’d poke a few jests at each other, then put in one of his weird-assed movies just to watch the director’s cut. Like that night we watched Cannibal! The Musical. We’d gotten into a friendly little competition over who could introduce the other to the most outrageous cult film. He made me sit through Cannibal! (which I loved, despite how revolting it is) and I forced him to endure Baxter (which he hated, no matter what I said).
Those were the days, er, nights. Getting sozzled on brandy or wine while I told him all of the reasons why he really didn’t want a cigarette just because he was drinking. Nettl, knowing how we got when he dropped by unannounced, just went to bed and let us do our thing.
I miss his convoluted wisdom, his seeming nonchalance, his quiet brilliance, his fucking weirdness.
Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why did he and Noelle have to go get lives and leave Stoolwater? How dare they graduate and grow up! The worst thing about living in a university town is that friendships are temporary. Thank the GigaGoddess for the Internet.
