Hey guys. This one is going up super early because I have work and I won't be home until late. This one's a goodie.
There were 4 of us on this particular day. Myself, Tom, Chris, and Lenny. Chris, today, comes across as a pretty nondescript guy. Male version of Lindsay from Freaks and Geeks, maybe? He was a good kid hanging out with the wrong crowd just for kicks, or something. I think all of us were in his position, once. Lenny was sort of my rival at this time. While we were friends, there was always a sense of competetion whenever we took up an activity. If I had to wager a guess, I think he disliked me because I ended up stealing a lot of the attention that would normally go to him.
Upon arrival in town, the first thing we did was get a quarter keg of beer. Yuengling, of course. . .brewed less than 10 miles from where we were. A quarter would be plenty for 4 people. Next, we transported said keg to Tom's house. Almost a herculean task. He himself lived maybe a quarter mile outside of town, on a teensy backroad that hadn't been repaired in a long time. The place was completely surrounded and shadowed by tall, dark trees of every sort, and the greyness of this day painted the sky with the dark glow of ill omens.
This day would be dedicated to watching a film I had acquired the previous day. Back then, in the mid 90s, this movie was legendary, and largely unavailable. None of us had seen it, but our older brothers had all made it legendary in our minds. I came across it in a small video store some distance away -- Evil Dead 2. It was, needless to say, everything we hoped it would be. It was definitely more interesting than sex with females, which was a disappoint I'd learn about early the next year.
Dark woods. . .cabins. . .damn, this movie could be taking place here, we thought. The beer flowed, and the willfull dementia of booze on the adolescent mind imbued a fine, fine idea upon our minds: we would MAKE the movie happen here.
A quarter of a mile down the road, further from town, there was an old graveyard, the Wildcat. The newest graves in it dated from the civil war, and it had been in disrepair for as long as the abandoned chapel next to it. We were going to walk there, and we were going to dig up a grave.
It was early in the afternoon, and it probably took us 2 hours to get our shovels, picks, keg and utility lights to the graveyard. Still grey and drizzley, and always surrounded by trees, it was the perfect day for this inspired endeavor. The graveyward was. . . an abomination. Torn apart by sinkholes and generations of vandals, grave markers pointed every direction except straight up. Some were smashed or ripped out of the ground. The ground was strangely soft. . .almost muddy. Nothing had grown here in our lifespans and the dirt quickly turned to loose mud when a light rain picked up. This made digging easier.
We picked a grave at random, I believe, and got to work. We were digging for a few hours, and Tom bowed out. "I can't do this, man. I'm tired." Excuses, excuses. We three continued, and Tom sat aside, smoking cigarettes and bogarting the keg. Progress was quicker than you'd think, actually. A half hour later, Chris was gone. "We shouldn't be doing this, guys." Bah, he was a poseur anyway! Lenny and I would finish the job. We would achieve our arbitrary, meaningless goal, and we would be legendary for it!
Wait, wait, Lenny. My rival. This endeavor quickly turned into a sport. Neither of us could bow out while the other was still at it. With glints in our eyes and beer poisoning our withering hearts, we hit the dirt doublespeed. The keg kicked a little bit later, and our two spectators visually wanted to get the hell out of dodge as night started painting the already grey day a vicious black. Aggression took over our endeavor. Eventually, our bodies started giving in, and by 6PM, we were running on fumes. Lenny climbed out of the hole.
"We've gotta get going. We were supposed to be home hours ago."
I won, I WON! I just smiled back at him. Sure, we'd all be in ludicrous trouble, but that wouldn't take away this victory. This victory for the ages! This victory for me! I was truly the craziest and most deranged of them all. I couldn't hold it in.
"I WIN!!! I WIN!!" I shouted, repeatedly, insanely. Still in the grave, I gave out a triumphant yell, and stabbed the shovel into the ground.
CRACK, the ground went, and down I fell. The coffin, somewhere within a half foot underneath me collapsed, and sent me tumbling down off my feet.
"FUCK! HELP ME!" I yelled. But there was no help. Everybody ran at the first sign of danger. I could've been sucked into a sinkhole, or killed by the spirit of the dead I had undoubtedly awoken.
I didn't see anything down there. I freaked out and climbed out asap. The keg, shovels, picks, and light were all left at the scene.
EPILOGUE:
A year later, the church back in town sponsered a big clean up of this graveyard, since it was a historic site. It was a big deal, with camera crews and newspaper reporters. That week, there was a front page story about how sick vandals had toppled tombstones, and how there were even graves dug up. This would be the first time I'd make it to the front page of th epaper for something I should be ashamed of.
There were 4 of us on this particular day. Myself, Tom, Chris, and Lenny. Chris, today, comes across as a pretty nondescript guy. Male version of Lindsay from Freaks and Geeks, maybe? He was a good kid hanging out with the wrong crowd just for kicks, or something. I think all of us were in his position, once. Lenny was sort of my rival at this time. While we were friends, there was always a sense of competetion whenever we took up an activity. If I had to wager a guess, I think he disliked me because I ended up stealing a lot of the attention that would normally go to him.
Upon arrival in town, the first thing we did was get a quarter keg of beer. Yuengling, of course. . .brewed less than 10 miles from where we were. A quarter would be plenty for 4 people. Next, we transported said keg to Tom's house. Almost a herculean task. He himself lived maybe a quarter mile outside of town, on a teensy backroad that hadn't been repaired in a long time. The place was completely surrounded and shadowed by tall, dark trees of every sort, and the greyness of this day painted the sky with the dark glow of ill omens.
This day would be dedicated to watching a film I had acquired the previous day. Back then, in the mid 90s, this movie was legendary, and largely unavailable. None of us had seen it, but our older brothers had all made it legendary in our minds. I came across it in a small video store some distance away -- Evil Dead 2. It was, needless to say, everything we hoped it would be. It was definitely more interesting than sex with females, which was a disappoint I'd learn about early the next year.
Dark woods. . .cabins. . .damn, this movie could be taking place here, we thought. The beer flowed, and the willfull dementia of booze on the adolescent mind imbued a fine, fine idea upon our minds: we would MAKE the movie happen here.
A quarter of a mile down the road, further from town, there was an old graveyard, the Wildcat. The newest graves in it dated from the civil war, and it had been in disrepair for as long as the abandoned chapel next to it. We were going to walk there, and we were going to dig up a grave.
It was early in the afternoon, and it probably took us 2 hours to get our shovels, picks, keg and utility lights to the graveyard. Still grey and drizzley, and always surrounded by trees, it was the perfect day for this inspired endeavor. The graveyward was. . . an abomination. Torn apart by sinkholes and generations of vandals, grave markers pointed every direction except straight up. Some were smashed or ripped out of the ground. The ground was strangely soft. . .almost muddy. Nothing had grown here in our lifespans and the dirt quickly turned to loose mud when a light rain picked up. This made digging easier.
We picked a grave at random, I believe, and got to work. We were digging for a few hours, and Tom bowed out. "I can't do this, man. I'm tired." Excuses, excuses. We three continued, and Tom sat aside, smoking cigarettes and bogarting the keg. Progress was quicker than you'd think, actually. A half hour later, Chris was gone. "We shouldn't be doing this, guys." Bah, he was a poseur anyway! Lenny and I would finish the job. We would achieve our arbitrary, meaningless goal, and we would be legendary for it!
Wait, wait, Lenny. My rival. This endeavor quickly turned into a sport. Neither of us could bow out while the other was still at it. With glints in our eyes and beer poisoning our withering hearts, we hit the dirt doublespeed. The keg kicked a little bit later, and our two spectators visually wanted to get the hell out of dodge as night started painting the already grey day a vicious black. Aggression took over our endeavor. Eventually, our bodies started giving in, and by 6PM, we were running on fumes. Lenny climbed out of the hole.
"We've gotta get going. We were supposed to be home hours ago."
I won, I WON! I just smiled back at him. Sure, we'd all be in ludicrous trouble, but that wouldn't take away this victory. This victory for the ages! This victory for me! I was truly the craziest and most deranged of them all. I couldn't hold it in.
"I WIN!!! I WIN!!" I shouted, repeatedly, insanely. Still in the grave, I gave out a triumphant yell, and stabbed the shovel into the ground.
CRACK, the ground went, and down I fell. The coffin, somewhere within a half foot underneath me collapsed, and sent me tumbling down off my feet.
"FUCK! HELP ME!" I yelled. But there was no help. Everybody ran at the first sign of danger. I could've been sucked into a sinkhole, or killed by the spirit of the dead I had undoubtedly awoken.
I didn't see anything down there. I freaked out and climbed out asap. The keg, shovels, picks, and light were all left at the scene.
EPILOGUE:
A year later, the church back in town sponsered a big clean up of this graveyard, since it was a historic site. It was a big deal, with camera crews and newspaper reporters. That week, there was a front page story about how sick vandals had toppled tombstones, and how there were even graves dug up. This would be the first time I'd make it to the front page of th epaper for something I should be ashamed of.
