Inhaling Chemicals is Bad for You

Posted by E

Thursday, August 28, 2008

To those who have read tales of Stumblebum past, the name of Terry should by now be a familiar one. There is no doubt that he was both instigator and sidekick to any number of crazy capers back in the day.

But please, do not think from my stories of him that he was anything less than brilliant. He had quite a mind on him, he just wasn't always mindful (or caring) of the lives of others. Let me present you with a brief example of this. I first moved to Stumblebum in 1987, having traveled across country from a pretty modern and technically oriented town to that delightful villa, which to me ranked no higher than a boil on the ass of a parasite on a flea.

I had lived in Stumblebum for about a week before the school year started, and as luck would have it, the one and only person who shared my bus stop was none other than the one who would provide fodder for so many entertaining stories years down the road. Him and I hit it off immediately and within no time were fast friends. There was a certain morbid outlook that festered in both our brains at the time, an interest borne of being social outcasts at the school and sharing in extracurricular interests. (Namely being horrid little shits.)

Shortly after the schoolyear began, I was invited to Terry's to enjoy a viewing of the Tobe Hooper classic, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Being a fan of violent cinema and feeling the need to try and fit in in such an alien world as Stumblebum, I heartily agreed. It was at this viewing that I was first introduced to Craig and Chad. (I would come to find out later that they had been introduced to the contents of my underwear drawer before I was ever introduced to them.)

I'm sure that my initial introduction to the two of them was anything less than spectacular. By all measures I am socially inept, particularly when faced with strangers. I tend to be the quiet one in the corner, staring wild eyed at passers by, so it goes without saying that I probably passed the afternoon without saying much of anything.

Our viewing was to take place in the furnished basement at Terry's house. This was my first trip over to his homestead, so I wasn't sure what to expect. But the basement was cozy enough, with a strong wooden smell that still serves as a fantastic nostalgia trigger.

The only downpoint to watching movies there was the location of the television. It sat just to the left of the bottom of the stairs, in full view of anybody walking down. You might expect that this positioning resulted in our being busted for any number of pornographic viewings, but you'd be wrong. It's location DID, however, result in many looks of consternation from Terry's father, as he always managed to walk down the stairs during a rape scene.

I kid you not. Silent Night, Deadly Night, down comes Willie right as Santa rips open the woman's blouse, screams "Shut up, bitch!" and goes to town on her. Last House on the Left, you got it...raping. Hell, on one occassion we watched I Spit on Your Grave, an exploitation classic. Willie comes walking downstairs right as the heroine is being raped by a group of four men. He comes back 10 minutes later and the female is bent over a tree stump being raped. On his third trip down the steps, they were urging their retarded friend to have his way with her.

We had to actually defend our actions with that one.

"I swear to god, we didn't know it would have this much rape!!!"

But those would be other times. For now, the only raping we would be seeing was that of chainsaw blade raping Franklin's annoying ass.

The movie passed by without event and soon we found ourselves tooling around Terry's house, looking for something to do.

This was to be my introduction to Terry's other side. I thank Jeebus I wasn't the target.

Truth be told, specifics of the how and why elude me. I suspect I've spent years repressing this memory, although one image remains emblazoned in my mind. (If you happen to know more about this incident, by all means, clue me in.)

For whatever reason Terry decided to exact a terrible punishment on Craig. Why, I do not recall. Whether for amusement, revenge or just to terrify me beyond measure, I cannot say.

There was a treehouse behind Terry's house, a nice affair with a trapdoor in the bottom and windows. Oh yes, the windows. They allowed you to seal the place off. And it was this airtight seal that allowed Terry to mete out the punishment.

He corralled Craig into the treehouse and locked him in, trapped like a rat in a cage. Once his prey was safely contained, he fetched a can of wasp spray, pried one of the windows ever so slightly open and then began emptying the contents into the treehouse.

This was not a large treehouse, mind you. Within seconds of him depressing the nozzle, a misty cloud of noxious vapor began to crawl across the floor, thickening as it made its way towards Craig's lungs. Terry cackled with laughter while the look of hopeless despair filled Craig's eyes.

I'd love to say that this is the point of the story where I knocked the can from Terry's hand and demanded that he cease and desist with these actions, but let's face the facts; I'm a big pussy. I did my best to point out that this really wasn't all that funny and that he could actually do some real harm to poor Craig, but he didn't want to hear any of it.

Craig's desperation only strengthened, and he began trying to beat his way out of the clubhouse. It is an image of Craig's terrified and desperate visage inside that window that haunts me to this day.

And sadly, this is where my memory of it all ends. I'm pretty certain Craig survived the incident, as I saw him a few months back, but I really can't recall how he got out of the treehouse. I mainly recalled making a mental note not to piss Terry off.

NOTE: I know I have used Terry for fodder in my stories on many occassions. In all fairness to Terry, he was not a horrible person (in general), he was not evil to his friends (and truth be told, I was probably just as bad as he was), and over the years has been a fantastic, loyal and trustworthy friend.