A Shitty Life Chapter 1 Eric was just starting to achieve consciousness when the summer sun broke through

the window and danced across his eyes. His head was swimming with abstract thoughts and images left over from his dream state, and for just a second before he woke, the shining of the sun looked absolutely surreal. Eric rolled over on to his side, and on to his dog, Hef. Hef was a burnt-orange Shiba Inu, with a tail that stuck straight up and curled inwards, and dark, loving eyes. And he was indeed named after the once great owner of the Playboy mansion Hugh Hefner. Eric thought it was funny at the time. He had had Hef since he was 16, and now, eleven years later, the dog was truly beginning to resemble his namesake. Hef yawned and licked at his owners hands as Eric scratched behind his ears. Nothing made Eric happier than the fact that Hef never shed a single hair. He took a moment to close his eyes, and try to remember the names and faces of the hundreds upon hundreds of dogs that he had encountered that had so rudely and arrogantly placed the burden of their hair on to his already troubled ankles. It wasnt that Eric was disgusted by dog hair, or repulsed by the thought of having his slacks temporarily vandalized, but why should he have to look after someone elses hair? He couldnt ask for a lint roller without seeming prudish, but leaving the hair on his ankles would simply look sloppy. As a result, the social dog hair-related stigma would force him to subtly spend the next few hours trying to pick off the dog hair with his fingers. But Hef never did that to him. Maybe his body just didnt have the energy to grow enough hair to have any amount that was near abundance, but, as Eric liked to think, maybe

it was just Hefs regard for his general welfare and happiness that made him so conservative with his hair growing. Eric then noticed that he hadnt even remembered to take his suit off last night. He never put tremendous care in to picking out his clothes, but Eric enjoyed looking nice. But even above appearing presentable, Eric valued comfort. In his home, in his acquaintances, and in his clothing. But Friday nights were special. Wearing his Friday night suit was one of the few traditions that Eric valued, and he had upheld it nearly every Friday since his 21st birthday. He loosened his tie and inspected it, smiling as he found not a single hair left over from his beloved Hef. Eric let loose a very audible sigh and forced himself to remove his covers, sit up, and inspect the damage done from the night before. Not too bad. Usually when Eric went out drinking, he woke up to find a variety of half finished projects and scraps of food, but this morning he was greeted by nothing but a half eaten grilled cheese sandwich and his unfinished bottle of rum wrapped in its tightly scrunched up brown paper bag. As he undressed himself, Eric started to nibble on the remains of his grilled cheese, and finished of the last few swigs of rum. Eric loved alcohol. And he saw no reason why he shouldnt. Did he have a problem? No. If anything, Eric had developed one of the most stable relationships with a mind-altering substance that the world had ever known. After long weeks at work, Eric would walk a few blocks down to the local liquor store, buy himself a fifth of whatever beverage sounded appealing that night, and drink it to himself as he walked through the park. Then, with his thoughts well and scrambled, he would catch a cab back to his apartment, cuddle up

with Hef on the couch, and watch a movie. And he did this every week. The sunrise was exceptionally beautiful this morning, and Eric deemed it necessary to strip down to his boxers and finish his rum and grilled cheese in front of the giant living room window in order to enjoy it. He finished his meal, licked his fingers clean, and stared out his enormous window on to the enormous city and thought about what he could do today. But he couldnt think of anything. Not one damn thing. And it was just like every other weekend. He didnt even know why he looked forward to the end of the week at this point. Every Friday he would get himself worked up and excited at the idea of the weekend, thinking about all the parties he could go to and all the fun adventures he could go on with his friends. And every Saturday morning he would wake up, realize that he couldnt think of one exciting thing to do and then spend Saturday afternoon stuck inside, watching television, being teased by all these other people going on exciting adventures with their friends. It wouldnt matter if he had the motivation to go on an adventure anyways. All of his friends from high school and college were a good number of years older than him and were getting married and disappearing in to the wonderful world of wine tasting, dinner parties, and charades. But Eric didnt want wine and charades. Deciding to do something about his crushing boredom, Eric sleepily fumbled back in to his bedroom and slipped in to a pair of jeans that smelled decently clean, a plain white tee shirt, and his favorite red hoodie. He pushed the messy hair out of his face and held it back with a beanie. It didnt look very attractive, but Eric had no one to impress, and anything was better than showering. He pulled Hefs collar and

leash out of his closet, and the jingle of the chains made the old dogs ears perk up. If Hef had been just a couple years younger, he probably wouldve come running at the sound, but the Shiba had become just as jaded as Eric had, and the typical weekend activities were even starting to bore him. Nevertheless, Hef stood up and enthusiastically waddled over to Eric, happy to do anything that wasnt sleeping. The collar didnt actually fit Hef- Eric had bought it expecting to buy a much larger dog, but being the runt of the litter, the cheetah print collar hung loosely around Hefs neck, and could be slipped off with ease. But Hef never bothered to do so. After all, where could he possibly want to go? Eric sloppily threw on a pair of sneakers and dragged Hef out the door, feeling an incredibly small yet significant satisfaction at his ability to do so without having to untie them. In the long run, the precious shoe tying seconds would all add up in to hundreds of hours, which Eric could have spent asleep. Eric shut the door behind him, and spent a few moments fiddling with the old, rusty brass bolt. It had stuck ever since Eric moved in, and wouldnt open or close unless jiggled in the perfect manner. Click. He loved the sound of a well-locked door. Upon leaving, it bid him farewell and wished him good luck on his daily endeavors, and upon arrival, it signified escape, relaxation, and comfort. As he began to walk down the stairs towards the lobby, Eric felt a tug on the leash. How could he have forgotten? Oh come on He said to Hef, Again? Really?

Hef stared at him sheepishly from the top of the stairs. Eric sighed. Ever since Hef was a puppy he had been afraid of stairs. When Eric had first brought him home, he thought it was an endearing little quirk of the young pup, but as he had grown in size, Eric had begun to get odd looks from his neighbors, who would never understand the struggle of carrying a 60 pound dog down six flights of stairs. But, never being one to spoil anything for anyone, Eric obliged and began the long descent to the street corner. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, Eric smiled, and began to walk along the decrepit, cracked sidewalk. But what had started out as another beautiful day in the northeast quickly turned sour, and fat, heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky. Neither of the two companions seemed to mind. Eric loved the rain because it made him feel less guilty about staying inside, and Hef simply enjoyed being outside in all possible situations. But just a matter of minutes later, Eric stopped and sat down on the curb. He couldnt keep walking, and he had no idea why. His legs worked fine, and he was by no means in any physical pain. But something just felt so painful and unsettling about the direction he was heading. Hef sat down beside him and nuzzled his side. It wasnt the first time Eric had felt this way. In fact it was one of the most common things that happened to him. Every time that he left the house, it would kick in at the back of his mind, as nothing more than a whisper at first. And it would run every possible scenario that unwillingly popped in to his mind. It would grow louder, and more intense. What had started out as, What if I step in a puddle and soak through to my socks? turned into, What if I slip in to the road, and Im hit by a bus? And

from there, it became, And so what if I am hit by a bus? Whos gonna show up to the funeral? Hef? Who will tell my parents? What if they dont even care? Eric looked towards the end of the road he had been heading down and immediately felt nauseous. His world started to spin, and trying to find some kind of escape, Eric buried his head in his lap and sat silently on the curb. The shower had become a full on storm, and pedestrians had wrapped themselves in their monochromatic black and grey overcoats, and seemed to have simultaneously opened their umbrellas. And there sat Eric and Hef. Two lonely specks of red and brown immersed in the sea of black umbrellas.

Chapter 2 Eric lost track of time sitting on that curb. He didnt even bother to look at his watch, because he had nowhere to be and nothing to do. So he just continued sitting. And as Eric sat there, his What-Ifs became quieter and quieter, and slowly faded in to the back of his mind until eventually they absolutely disappeared, with one final question: What if I just sat here for the rest of my life? And although his mind had stopped torturing him with the What-Ifs, Eric decided that this question was worth devoting a good amount of his time to. He realized that this wasnt just another What-If, and was actually a plausible idea. Maybe he could just sit here on this curb in the rain, and wait for his body to waste away. There was absolutely nothing to tell him that he couldnt. And Eric liked the idea of having absolute control over everything. So what if his boss fired him? So what if he was suddenly hit by a bus

and the only person who attended his funeral was Hef? So what if he never got married? He would never have to worry about these things if his greatest priority in life was sitting on a curb. So Eric tried it out. He sat on that curb for hours, with nobody to keep him company but Hef. It was nearly six by the time Eric rustled from his daze. And then only thing that had motivated him was hunger. Hunger was one of Erics favorite things, in fact. But only because he always knew it would soon be followed by food. During weeks when he was bored, Eric would go without eating for a number of days, and tried to imagine what it was like to go hungry for even longer. He imagined what it was like to not know that there was food waiting for him at home, and how it must feel to scavenge and fight to fill such a basic necessity. Necessity. That was a word that intrigued Eric. Its thrown around far too often in modern society for us to have any real idea of what it means to need something. Eric shuddered with disgust as he thought of children whining to their mothers about how badly they need a new toy or videogame. As far as Eric was concerned, the only real necessities in life were instinctual: food, shelter, and sex. And he had plenty of good food, a solid and even extravagant roof over his head, and well, the rest was unimportant. But now he was hungry, cold, and his mind had settled. He was ready to go home. Hef gave an excitied yawn as his owner finally stood up, and eagerly jumped to his feet. Eric was glad to be heading home. As powerful as he felt sitting on that curb, it was lonely and cold, and he was already aching for change. The walk home seemed shorter than Eric remembered, and with each step he took closer to home, his mind settled a bit more, and things became less and less frightening. Relief swept

over him as he reached the door to his building, and he didnt even mind that Hef wanted to be carried back up the stairs this time too. Eric smiled, overwhelmed with happiness to be back inside, and his mind began to wander, bringing back thoughts of warm blankets, hot chocolate, and security. But when he reached the top step and set Hef down, Erics stomach dropped. The door to his apartment had been opened, and light shined through the crack, revealing a thin layer of smoke seeping out of the top. Eric didnt know what to do. That apartment was everything. It was his life. It was where he could go to escape the world. It was one of the few things that he really loved in life, and someone had violated it. Eric could feel ice-cold adrenaline pump through his system, and he quickly became blinded with rage. Without realizing what he was doing, Eric kicked open the door and searched for the nearest possible weapon. Not being what one might call a natural born killer, Eric had never bought a gun or knife, or even kept a baseball bat behind his door, so the first thing that his hand fell upon was one of Hefs knobby, chewed up old bones. He gripped it firmly and raised it above his head, trying to look as menacing as possible. He heard someone curse from the living room. Alright, who the HELL are you and what the HELL do you want with my home?! Eric shouted. He had tried his best to stay calm, but his voice cracked as he yelled. At first there was no response. Eric inched closer to the center of the apartment, his eyes shifting from side to side, expecting a vicious attack. Then, a mumble came from behind the couch, and Eric saw a mans face, obstructed by a pair of dark, askew sunglasses pop up from the leather sofa. Eric didnt even think

about what he was doing. He let out a shriek like a barbarian warrior prince, and charged at his enemy, ready to strike out with the bone! Eric leapt over the couch andWHACK! Eric felt the satisfying thud of a well-placed blow, and the mans sunglasses shattered and flew off of his face. Eric landed on the coffee table on the other side of the sofa, cracking the old wood. He looked up just in time to see a small inkling of blood drip down the mans face and see him clutch his face in agony before falling to the ground beside Eric. WHAT THE HELL MAN?! The voice sounded familiar. The man started to shift and hold himself upward, and Eric, adrenaline still rushing, brought the bone back for another swing. But before he could react, the man slapped Eric across the face and shouted, JESUS CHRIST MAN, NO! ITS ME! He pushed the raggedy mop of dirty blonde hair out of his face and dabbed the blood with his already blood soaked sleeve. Its me, Matt, dont you remember, mate? Eric was silent. He immediately recognized the distinct features of Matt Zeoss face. His hair had gotten longer, but it was still pushed back around his ears, and small curls would occasionally fall in to his face. His face was dirtier than the last time Eric saw him, but his facial features remained strong and unchanged. He still had his long, surprisingly straight nose, considering how many times it had been broken, and eyebrows that were somehow commanding and confident. His pale blue eyes still held some kind of excitement and adventure in them, but the

crows feet around their edges showed his exhaustion from a lifetime of nothing but excitement and adventure, and didnt do much to conceal that Matt had gotten on in years since Eric had last seen him. That was two ago. So Eric figured he had to be at least thirty by now. Despite this he was far from unattractive. If anything, his age showed wisdom and experience. Eric was absolutely sure he was straight, but Matt just had the kind of face you like to look at. He was like a piece of art. And Eric had always been somewhat jealous of this. But he was ecstatic to see his old friend. Oh my god! Matt! How have you been man? Well I was doing fine until some idiot socked me across the face with a god damn rock! Uh, actually it was a bone. Hefs bone! He looks pretty happy to see you. Huh. Well thanks for that fun fact of the day, but if you havent noticed, I seem to be bleeding out of my FACE. Oh man, you are that was a pretty solid hit wasnt it? Matt was silent for a moment, and then shrugged and gave a slight smile, as if agreeing with him. He let out another groan. Damn this smarts, you wanna give me some ice or something? Eric dropped the bone and made his way over to the freezer. Wait, no On second thought, make it a beer. Eric smiled to himself, and pulled out a couple bottles from the fridge, and decided to make up an ice pack anyways. Matt was smart, but he had a tendency to do stupid stuff. And exchanging ice for beer was one of them. So Eric came back and sat down on the broken coffee table and handed Matt his beer and ice. Eric pulled out his bottle opener and offered it to Matt, but he already popped his open with a lighter and chugged half of it. Eric

stared at him bewildered. So what have you been up to lately? he asked. Well, Matt sighed, besides getting my skull fractured by my bloody idiot friends, a surprisingly small amount. Things havent been going well so lately, Eric. This economys got everybody bending over backwards for some cash. Eric tried to suppress a giggle, and unsuccessfully tried to pass it off as a cough. It was so weird to hear Matt talking about such a mundane and uninteresting topic. Especially since the last time hed seen him, Eric had been regaled with a rather lengthy tale involving some outgoing erotic dancers and a stolen golf cart. But Matt looked a little hurt by Erics laugh. What? Its true! He said. Do you know how embarrassing it is to always be asking your friends and parents for more money every month? Im barely getting by on what Ive got. And its not like the old nine-to-five is bringing in much cash Eric shifted uncomfortably on his coffee table. The last time Matt had showed up after a long disappearance he had been asking for money, and the time before that as well. But Matt was far from being a bad friend or a mooch. For the first 6 years that Eric knew him, he was a great guy. He was always someone to talk to, and was filled to the brim with an odd kind of wisdom that someone would only expect to see in a man far older, and much cleaner. And for the most part, it was Matt who was helping out Eric. Matt was the guy who would introduce him to girls, or stay up late with him to cram for finals the next day. If anything, Matt owed Eric quite a bit, and would have no problem paying his dues. But having him ask for money was always an awkward experience, so Eric tried to switch the subject to something he knew Matt was uncomfortable talking about.

So what are you doing for work these days anyways? Matt laughed, Oh, Eric, come on, we havent seen each other in at least two years? We must have something more exciting to talk about. Besides, its Saturday night! Have a good time for once! Matt tapped the top of Erics bottle with the bottom of his own, causing it to foam up and over the sides. Eric started to chug. It was the same trick that Matt always used on him in college when he wanted him to loosen up, and it always lead to something a little more exciting. But as he watched the last of his beer disappear down the neck of the bottle, Eric just kept thinking about Matts response. Every time he asked about his job, it was always the same response: Isnt there something more exciting to talk about? Eric was tired of it. He was tired of being left out of Matts life, and tired of him keeping secrets. But as he put the empty bottle back on the table, he looked up to see Matt already getting another two beers out of the fridge. Eric wasnt really in the mood for drinking, but he was happy one of his favorite people had finally returned, and he could find no good reason to tell him no. So the two friends sat down on the sofa, put their feet up on the broken remains of the coffee table and turned on the television. This was the first thing that Matt and Eric did together every time they saw each other. They never really watched anything, but they both enjoyed having some background noise for their conversations, and if they just talked directly to one another the conversation always felt too serious. Like a tea party mixed with an intervention. And thats not what either of them were there for. They were there to reunite, talk about nothing, drink beer, and live their lives. The two friends laughed and shared stories long in to

the night, and when they ran out of shows to watch on TV, they started making fun of the late night infomercials. After a few hours of sitting on the couch, and 5 or 6 beers later, Matt leapt up from his seat with a wide grin on his face. He clapped Eric on the shoulder, looked him in the eyes, and said, Bro Best. Idea. Ever. He took off in to the other room without saying anything, leaving Eric sitting silent on the couch. An intermission between friends was one of Erics favorite things. When he found somebody that he truly enjoyed being around, he was finally able to open up and genuinely have a good time. But what was even better was the momentary silence that ensued when a friend went to the bathroom, or had left something in the other room. It gave Eric time to reflect on the conversation, and simply settle his mind with some mundane task. In this situation, it was reading the back of the beer bottle. Then from the other room, Eric heard a familiar sound: the sweet sound of Biggie Smalls being blasted from the stereo system in his bedroom. Eric was shocked that Matt even remembered who his favorite musician was. Eric was oddly touched by the gesture, and spoke up as Matt reappeared in the bedroom doorway. Hey, you remembered I like Biggie! he commented. Of course, mate! An elephant never forgets. Upon saying this, Matt threw Eric a signature wink, and rushed over to the kitchen cupboard, removing an unopened, dusty old package of red solo cups. He was obviously already quite drunk. Matt pranced over to the kitchen table, giggling to himself, and moved it in to the center of the room.

You know where this is going, mate? Matt asked. Beer pong? Beer pong. Matt beamed. The two friends were champion beer pong players in college, but until now, Eric had completely forgot that the game existed at all. Eric then realized just how much of his life had revolved around Matt, and how much had disappeared when he left town. Matt set up the ten-cup triangle and began filling them with the meager remains of Erics beer supply. Eric was just barely able to lift himself up from the couch and walk a few solid steps before stumbling and landing himself on the kitchen table. He didnt even know where Matt got the Ping-Pong balls. Eric didnt keep any in his apartment for any reason, and he was pretty sure that Matt hadnt brought a bag, but somehow, he had been able to produce, as if by magic, a brand new, unopened bag of Ping-Pong balls. Eric smiled dumbly as Matt handed him half of the balls. Tell you what, He said, Because youre my guest, Im gonna be a fantastic host and let you have the honor of first shot. Matt smiled back and attempted a gracious bow, hitting his head on the table in the process. Eric giggled to himself, but it quickly grew into an overwhelming, full-body laugh. It was the hardest that Eric had laughed in years. Matt looked hurt at first, but slowly started to lighten up until the two friends were standing alone in the dimly lit room, filling the apartment with laughter. It was an almost surreal experience for Eric, laughing so genuinely and so joyfully with a close friend. He had never been so happy to be around another person in his life. The laughter slowly died down, and Eric wiped the tears from his eyes. The silence that

followed was absolute, as it was close to 3 A.M., and no one else in the complex was awake at the time. Matt smiled and Eric picked up the ping-pong ball. It had been so long since Eric had played that he could barely remember how to play. But surprisingly enough, the very first shot he made arced perfectly through the air, and seemed to hang there motionless for a few seconds before beginning its elegant descent and making a perfect plop as it landed in the top cup of Matts triangle. The two friends stood there for a moment, stunned. Then, with his eyes fixed on Erics, Matt let loose a wild cheer and proceeded to chug the half filled cup of beer. The two friends played on for the next half hour, and the tables had drastically turned in Erics direction. Matt was already drunk when they had started playing, and now he was absolutely smashed. Hed already gone through two pyramids of beer, and Erics was first one was only half finished. Matts drunkenness was starting to showhe was slurring his words, and the ones that were intelligible were about absolute nonsense. And before Eric even knew what was happening, Matt had gone off on one of his famous rants. At first it started off relatively low key: Matt went on about high gas prices and war in the Middle East, but after just a few minutes of rambling on, Matt had worked himself into an absolute rageand thats when things got weird. You know why we wear clothes, man?, he asked. Matt stared blankly at Eric for a few seconds, and Eric noticed that when he blinked, one eye closed a little slower than the other. He looked absolutely insane. Uh to keep us warm? And not naked?, Eric asked.

No man. Not even close. Thats why we have radiators. Clothes, my dear friend, is what society forces us to wear so that we dont become accustomed to the true beauty of the human form. At this point, Matt had begun removing his socks and loosening his belt. Eric stared on in horror as he saw his newly acquired houseguest begin to strip his clothes off. You see? Matt yelled as he dropped his pants, This is what the world is afraid of! Beauty! At first Eric had been ready to throw Matt on to the curb. If there was one thing Eric disliked more than human contact, it was contact with creepy humans. But after reminding himself just how much Matt had had to drink, the whole scene just became hilarious, and Eric was unable to stifle his laughter. Laughter is relief for the weak and the fearful! Matt proclaimed. He was completely naked at this point. If you want to ever be truly free, youre going to have to remove the shackles of society and embrace the beauty of the body that Mother Nature has given you! Eric was sufficiently weirded out by this point. But he knew Matts intentions were good, despite his drunkenness, and the sincere look in his eyes made Eric feel like a conformist clothes-wearing sheep. So he decided to meet his friend half way. Eric reached down under the ping pong table, and after a few seconds of struggling he resurfaced, and placed two thin black dress socks on the table in front of him. He had never seen such a genuinely happy smile on Matts face.

Im glad to see you have taken the first steps towards liberation, my friend, Matt said before tripping over his own set of stationary feet and falling face first on to the Ping-Pong table. The table must have been deceptively comfortable, because as soon as Eric had heard the thud, the sounds of deep, grizzly snoring filled the musky air of the apartment. Eric sighed, forgetting how abruptly a night can end when it fully depends on the consciousness of another person, and very suddenly fell into a deep slump. It was as if all of the fun that hed had that night never even happened, and nothing like it would ever happen again. It was as if the crushing weight of reality had suddenly fallen down on him all at once. He could only think about cleaning everything up the next morning, the ensuing hangover, and Erics inevitable departure. Then it would just be him and Hef sharing an empty apartment again. Eric let loose another sigh, grabbed his wadded up socks from the table, and rolled over the back of his couch, falling face-down into the cushions. Eric loved going to sleep drunk. In fact, he considered drunk sleeping one of his top ten favorite activities. There was no sensation of sleepthere was just numbness and then the next morning. But right as he felt his breath slowing, Eric was jolted awake by the sound of Matt falling onto the floor and screaming himself awake. He sat up to see his naked, beer-covered friend staring up at him from the hardwood floor. Eric? You there buddy?, Matt asked. Yup. We need to get you out of this place. Its killing you, mate. Eric paused awkwardly, unable to think of how to respond. I know.

You promise me well get out of here tomorrow morning?, he pleaded. It might have been the copious amounts of alcohol in his blood stream, but Eric had never heard such a brilliant suggestion in his entire life. He instantly recognized this as the top priority in his lifeThis would be the thing that would fix him. Eric smiled, Yeah man. Well get out of here. Tomorrow. Good. Matt breathed a sigh of relief, dropped his head on the floor, and instantly went back to snoring. And just as quickly as it had come, the weight of reality was once again lifted from Erics tired shoulders.

Chapter 3 Eric awoke with an unbelievable pounding in his head that seemed to pulse through his entire body. He felt like death. The first few seconds of consciousness were a blurhe didnt know who he was, where he was, or what he was doing there. For all he knew, he could have been dead. But after a few seconds of mentally flailing about, Eric opened his eyes. That was the first mistake of his day. It took him a second to realize just what it was he was staring atprobably because he wasnt very used to staring at the underside of his couch. Eric foggily recalled that hed fallen asleep on the couch and he assumed that his head must have rolled off of his make shift pillow (a beer bottle) in the middle of the night. He was able to set his legs under him once again, and tried to lift his head right side up. That was the second mistake of the day. As his vision readjusted itself, the blood flowed back

down from Erics head and into the rest of his body. That was even worse. Eric felt the shockwave hit his toes and bounce back up to his legs, then hips, then stomach He quickly stumbled a few feet across the living room, jumping over the broken table just in time to throw open a window and throw up into the empty alley many floors below. Eric groaned. Well good morning, princess! Matt chimed in. Eric wiped the vomit from his mouth and turned around to see a fully dressed Matt, apron and all, whistling along to some old big band music and making pancakes. Eric couldnt believe it. How? he asked. How what? Matt replied, seemingly bewildered by the question. How are you not dying right now? Oh! Its a simply mind over matter, mate, Matt smiled and flipped one of the pancakes in the air. He hesitatedAnd I might not have been quite as drunk as I seemed to be last night. Eric stared blankly at him. What do you mean? You were talking about absolute nonsense! You slept on the ground. Yeah, Im a pretty decent actor, arent I? Matt chuckled. After you were well and gone I was just doing water shots. But why? Eric pleaded.

Hey, I needed someway to get you to agree to this. Matt gestured towards the door, where Eric saw an old, lonely looking leather suitcase propped up against the wall. Eric went silent again, and an incredibly rare awkward moment existed between the two friends for a few brief seconds, but Matt made sure to end it just as quickly as it appeared. Well come on then, he said, your bags arent going to pack themselves. Eric reluctantly pulled himself away from the window and slowly made his way to his bedroom, walking with such a tentative gait that it looked like the floor itself might fall out from under him. Eric pulled out a dusty duffle bag from under a pile of clothes in his closet and began filling it with thick sweaters and over sized sweatshirts. And as if he could read his mind, from the other room Matt yelled, And dont you dare even think about packing any of your god damn sweaters! Eric sighed and began removing all of his wooly companions from the bag, but left behind a single striped sweaterjust in case. The task of finding anything in Erics wardrobe that wasnt a sweater proved to be a daunting task, but after a few minutes of rummaging through old boxes, he managed to find a few old tee shirts that hed bought at concerts when he was in high school. He carelessly threw them into his bag along with a few pairs of worn shorts and some dirty flip-flops, zipped up the bag and carried it to the door. But as he dropped the bag off at the door, Erics head throbbed from the sound of Matts whistling. In a moment of absolute rage and deprivation, Eric turned to Matt and said, No. Eric never said no to Matt. Ever. And

in this one moment, it was the most relieving thing he had ever done. What? Matt asked, looking hurt. I said no, Eric repeated, Do you realize how ridiculous this is? You broke into my house last night, and it was the first time Id seen you in years, and now youre telling me I need to change my life and leave the country? Do you ever even listen to yourself speak? Are you kidding me? Matt asked, Do you really think that I came back here for myself? To this shithole that you call a home so that I could have a grand old time reuniting with my long lost friend? You dont think that I might have something better going for myself? I can take care of myself perfectly well now. You were the one person that was able to get me back on my feet when I needed it the most and now Im just trying to return the favor, because Ive been an awful friend the past few years. Im tired of having to mooch off other people. I just want to make it up to you, mate. You need this. I want you to be happy. Eric stood motionless in front of the door, stunned silent. He had been friends with Matt for years, but he had never heard him yell at anyone. Especially not him. They had never even spoken this openly. Eric then realized just how shallow their relationship had been up until that point. It was the first time that he felt like he could actually talk to Matt openly about things. The words that were coming out of his mouth werent just about where they could find the next great party or what they were doing on Saturday night; Matt was expressing a genuine concern for Erics happiness. Eric felt his face grow red, and the fleeting moment of confidence leave his body. He tried to escape Matts gaze, but though he kept his eyes fixed on his feet,

Matt refused to resign. He could feel Matts eyes digging into his forehead, as if they were digging away through his brain, looking for an explanation as to why Eric was utterly unable to produce any kind of meaningful responseIt was obvious that Matt knew he had won, but he needed to let his message seep into every pore on Erics body. Eric couldnt take it anymore; he sought relief in the only place that he knew he was sure to find it. He looked up into Matts eyes and said, Im sorry. There was another moment of silence as Matt stared at Erics face, his eyes scanning from his forehead down to his lips, and everything in between. His eyes seemed to freeze on Erics forehead for just a second, and then the cold mask that had hidden his face seemed to brake away as Matt smiled from ear to ear. This one action soothed Eric more than he would even admit to himself; seeing Matt smile after that outburst made it seem like nothing bad had ever existed in the world. Come on mate, get your ass in the car, he smiled. Eric couldnt help but crack a weak smile in response. Wait a minute what car? he asked, You didnt say anything about a car. Yeah mate, courtesy of my uncle? Remember those odd jobs I told you about? Fixing this baby up was one of em. Matt handed Eric a single key on a key ring in the shape of a charging horse. Eric couldnt believe his eyes. You didnt. You bet I did.