I almost didn’t write this story. With the hundreds, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of images, scraps of paper, and obscure clippings, I cannot find the one about my car from high school, the ‘Tutti Frutti.’ It was a hand-painted Toyota Celica. My friends and I decided to use pastel house paint that my stepmom, DM, had leftover from painting her preschool. The result? It looked as if the Easter Bunny had puked a psychedelic Easter egg design on the car. There was even an article written about it in the SBHS newspaper. I had that article, but now, it’s nowhere to be found.
My grandparents kept every clipping of me, yet for some reason, this one is missing too.
I was settling into my new California lifestyle. I mean, just look at that tan and puka shell necklace! My weekends were a sun-soaked blur of boogie boarding and skateboarding. On one such occasion, I met this pudgy kid with a mullet. We’ll call him FH. He was a walking contradiction, a blend of nostalgia and danger. He reminded me of the kids I grew up with—there was a raw, 'fuck it' attitude about him that screamed trouble. He smelled of reckless danger, like a mix of stale cigarettes and adventure.
I introduced him to our little group of friends: AM, DA, and myself. They were smart enough to be apprehensive, but a part of me was homesick, craving the familiar chaos of my past. I brought him in against my better judgment.
FH didn’t have the happy, shiny veneer of most people in Santa Barbara. His rough edges were a stark contrast to the polished smiles and sun-kissed looks. When it was just the two of us, we’d hang out and swap stories of our past misdeeds, living vicariously through our shared tales of rebellion. I think I even started smoking cigarettes again when I was with him, the smell of smoke blending with the salty ocean air, creating a new kind of nostalgia.
FH was a stoner. While we all smoked a little weed, FH smoked a lot and never had any money. He came up with this crazy harebrained idea, and against my better judgment, I went along for the ride. AM and DA warned me it was a horrible idea and to steer clear. They stopped hanging out with FH pretty quickly after this scheme was hatched.
Being a mischievous and dark force, FH had somehow concluded that catnip looked and smelled very much like marijuana. Let’s remember, this was the early 90s, and weed was nowhere near the technological achievements it boasts today. We were stupid high school kids. I agreed—it kind of did look and smell like weed. We decided to hit all the pet stores in the Santa Barbara area and buy a ton of catnip.
It was going to be the most amazing get-rich-quick scheme ever. FH had set up a deal to sell a large quantity of our fake weed to some people he knew. At the last minute, he bailed and had them meet me at my car in the parking lot. Amongst the shiny BMWs, Range Rovers, and Land Cruisers, there was my psychedelic freak-out mobile, me, and my bag of BS weed, waiting.
The deal went down without a hitch. We made $200. HOLY SHIT!! We did it. It actually fucking worked.
Cut to the next day. DA told me he heard I had gone through with that crazy catnip idea and had sold a ton of it to an Eastside Cholo. FUCK!! He said they were going to kick my ass and I should be very careful. MOTHER FUCKING FH!!! Now I knew why he didn’t show up for the deal—he set me up. I was scared and freaking out.
I couldn’t hide. My car was the most obvious eyesore out there. AM, DA, and I were going to leave campus for lunch, and I was going to drive us to the corner market. I had made it this far without getting jumped. I was seriously considering skipping the rest of the day after dropping AM and DA back at school after lunch.
It turned out I didn’t need to skip school. As we were leaving the student parking lot, a car cut me off and got in front of me, creeping along at a snail’s pace. I almost honked but hesitated. Too stupid to realize what was happening, I saw the car come to a stop, and the dude I sold the weed to got out, flanked by four other cholos. My heart stopped. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw another car blocking us in from behind, with four more cholos getting out. FUCK!!!!
I remember glancing over at AM in the passenger seat and seeing the sheer terror on his face. I turned to look at DA in the backseat, and the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. We were fucked. The gangsters were yelling at us, kicking the car, and the level of fear in the air was rising fast. I didn’t want anything to happen to my friends because of my stupidity. These guys were my brotherhood, and I had dragged them into this mess. There was only one thing to do. I remember staring at my hands, white-knuckled on the steering wheel, frozen with fear.
I got out of the car, heart pounding, and tried to explain the situation. I told them I was responsible, that the guys in the car had nothing to do with it, to leave them alone. It was all on me. They were yelling for their money back. I told them I only had half and that FH had the other half. I handed over the money I had, and in an instant, they grabbed my hand, punched me in the face, then punched me in the gut, another one kicked me. I went down to the ground, and they kicked me a few more times before driving off.
I got back in the car, and AM and DA were silent. This all happened within a few minutes. I drove us off the school grounds. The minute I turned left onto Anapamu Street, I started laughing hysterically. That's how I deal with fear and uncomfortable situations. The two of them looked at me as if I was losing my mind, then they started laughing too. The tension in the car eased, and we drove to the corner market to get lunch.
Later, I told FH (which now definitely stands for Fuck Head) that he needed to pay the cholos the other half of the money. He said he had already spent it. I told him he was fucked and that I didn’t want him in my life anymore.
Laughing in uncomfortable situations has always gotten me into more trouble growing up. People in authority or those who think they’re tough don’t appreciate it when you laugh. I’ve explained to numerous police officers that’s just how I deal with stress and nerves. As I have gotten older, though, I’ve lost that attribute. I kind of wish I could get it back. The past year has been so difficult and trying, and I really need a good laugh. I’d have abs of steel from all the laughing I’d be doing right now.
Love & Light,
MM
EYE HOLES: AM has been on my mind for the last few weeks. I’ve been wondering what happened. How can someone so instrumental in your life just fade away? While reminiscing, I found some poetry and a letter from AM that I'd like to share.
In the next edition we get to meet Gon. One of my favorite humans.
EAR HOLES: You are welcome.
Love & Light,
MM
Holy crap.