| Jonathan Yaeger
English 101
Remembered Person
His hair was a mess of charming brown curls, matching
his his, twin orbs of rich hazel. A small man, his
slight frame was packed with hard earned muscle.
Brycen Paul Agustus Neaveill and I have been friends
since early middle school, but no matter how much we
matured, these three flattering traits never faltered
one iota. Equally unwavering has been my respect for
his intellect, my appreciation for his creativity, and
my gratitude for his for his hospitably, generosity,
and for playing along with my weak jokes.
Sitting with him while he instant messaged his lady
!
friends
was always a good time. At the time had never
had the pleasure of a girlfriend. To me his seamless
juggling of four chicks at once was astounding. I
loved sharing in the excitement of a successful
exchange. We refereed to this time together as
“Macking Lessons”, During which Brycen would teach me,
an unrepentant nerd, how to “Mack on the ladies”. At
least one lesson sunk in.
Brycen was chatting with one of his lucky Juliets
during a “lesson”. “Thanks for thinking of me.” she
sighed. “Your so sweet.” The master, slouching in his
chair, one hand on his chin and a slick smile on his
face, bolted up and replied in a flash of clattering
key strokes, “I do my best”
“That's my thing,” he said turning to me, “I do my
best. It’s pimp. It’s pimp”
“Pimp indeed”, I thought to myself. Since then all my
ladies have known how I do my best for them.
Believe it or not, that was one of our more mundane
pursuits. being unusual people, w!
e often
took up
unusual hobbies.
Streaks of light clash and rebound. Slits of red and
green against the black of night, they strike
intensely, swift and sure. As the two powers meet they
sounded and otherworldly report, accents to a song of
grunts, cries, and the staccato of footfalls. We had
been practicing this light saber dual all day and at
last we had it down.
Our beams met and we both leaned in, bearing our full
weights upon the point where they connected. Mere
inches apart, our faces gleamed with the otherworldly
light of our blades. When it been became apparent that
neither of us could gain the advantage, we both pushed
off of the others weapon, creating some distance. We
slowly began to circle each other, placing each foot
deliberately: cautious, ready, and alert. This whole
time our eyes had been locked in a combat of their
own, searching for weakness. His eyes shone with the
iron of respect and the fires of
aggression. Their
steel matching my own as we we circled, just barely
out of the others reach. One, two seconds drifted
through the void between our blades. Both of us knew
what would happen next and we tarried against its
finality; the decisive blow was upon us. Suddenly, my
heart leapt into flame and my eyes flashed with
lightning. I let forth a cry and stepped forth boldly,
speeding my beam through a deadly downward arc. In the
same instant the other dashed in, blurred with speed.
His saber, back and low, flashing towards my
midsection. A hollow plastic tube bounced harmlessly
against my rib cage. I froze, my eyes filled with
shock. I opened my mouth to cursed the heavens for my
fate, but no sound came out. I dropped the toy weapon
with a clatter and sunk to my knees, then the ground.
“That's it! Shut it off!” Brycen yelled to his
sister, who had videotaped everything. I jumped to me
feet and slammed home a high-five.
“Righteous dude!” i
exclaimed, “That was perfect!” It’s hard to overstate
the devotion and creativity it took to craft such a
scene. However, at times that drive for perfection was
a source of friction between us.
Both Brycen and I are very laid back gentlemen,
perhaps even lazy. The obvious disparity between our
IQ and grades lend weight to this perspective. But no
matter how much we shirk the drudgeries of schoolwork,
when we find a task that interests us we work as men
possessed, ever true to our artistic natures and
fierce competitive spirits.
Our interests often lie in the field of video games.
One of the games that struck our fancy was a work
titled “Champions of Norath”. The point of the game is
to develop a combatant through defeating enemy
monsters, allowing the player to take on even harder
monsters. It’s a cooperative challenge, the two of us
worked together as partners. Unfortunately, this meant
that we ha!
d to
share the loot we pilfered of fallen
foes and since we’re both perfectionists about making
our character as powerful as possible, conflicts
arose.
“Woah, that chest piece has + 12 Stamina on it. I
need that, yo.” I declared off to my right. A few
seconds passed and no response came. I turned to face
brycen.
“ Look man, your an archer. You stand back, away from
the fighting, slipping arrows past your girlie, fag
bow while im up in front, in the midst of the
maelstrom, fighting six guys at once with my two
handed sword of the goddamned apocalypse. Why the fuck
do you need + stamina?”
“Shut up! I just gave you that helmet, he replied
indigently.
“Oh, right. So I get one piece of good armor while
you get damned eight! Look at my chest piece! Son of a
bitch must be made out of paper! Look man, we’re a
team. We’ve got to work together to get this right.”
“That's what your mom said last night.”
“No, that's what your !
sisters
told me in unison!”
Discourse proceeded with equal of greater exuberance
for sometime after. However, this scene also
demonstrates one of our relationships strengths; We
were comfortable with each other. We could speak with
unguarded tongues and express honestly how we felt.
It’s an environment i cherish.
Brycen has since moved to some other state somewhere.
It’s to far to travel so i haven't memorized the
specifics; the points rather moot. We don't talk much
while he’s away, but hang out as much as possible when
he's in town. We just pick up where we left off as
though it had been a week since last met instead of
six months. I look forward to spring break.
http://www.myspace.com/killanakin
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