So here’s the story.

So here’s the story. It was the spring of 1991. The Gulf War was in full swing. There were yellow ribbons on every door and roadside tree. Hip hop was giving way to hardcore rap, metal was giving way to grunge, and a boy & girl made friends at the 8th grade class picnic at Pearl Lake. This is their story. Fierce loyalty, relentless devotion, and a crazy strange bond that no one, including them, could really understand.

The boy wore a ring that was an eyeball clasped by two clawed hands. At the beach, near the sand, the day was droning on in a stream of heat and boredom. It was an annual event for the 8th graders, the only trip allowed by the school as a reward, a field trip with no educational merit as a gift for the graduating middle school class.
Usually a reserved girl, usually hanging back and observing, she was feeling brazen that day. She had been circulating around different groups of kids, trying to find some stimulating conversation and finding none. Her two best friends were not allowed on the trip, they were either grounded or had crazy parents or both. She was bored and lonely. He was over by the swings, playing music that she liked from a huge boombox (where did it come from?), chatting with some kid she didn’t know. Earlier that day on the bus the heat had been unbearable. Her jeans were too heavy for the weather, so she spontaneously chopped them into shorts with someone’s borrowed pocket knife. She felt good. She’d been aware of him all year, spotting him in the halls and regarding him with an awe that bordered on fear, enamored with his outsider ways. She went over to talk to him, feeling bold.
The boy was tall and lanky. He had long puffy hair like Joey Ramone and wore big thick glasses that made his brown eyes huge. He often wore a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off over a band t-shirt and ripped jeans. His name was Eric.
Perry Farrell’s nasal timbre whined out of the speakers.
“Hey, you like Jane’s Addiction?”
“Yeah, they’re all right. You like ‘em?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”
And so they started chatting. Despite his tough exterior, she was surprised to find he had a gentle nature and an easy going way about him. His haphazard laugh cascaded though the sultry air, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him, making his friend squirm anxiously.  A conversation was born, a conversation that would ebb, flow, halt and resume throughout the next two decades, and even further. On that sandy shore in the unbearable heat, a friendship sprouted that would carry them both through their darkest days, like titanium  reinforcing their souls.

But that’s the rest of the story.