THE MOST PRACTICAL USE FOR ICE WATER ACCORDING TO THE LATE DEVON THE DUDE

Billy Joel once sang that only the good die young, and I found that statement to be all so real during my young adulthood when I lost one of my best friends to complications from leukemia at the young age of 24.

Looking back, I can still recall the early morning phone call I received from his mother on a perfect August morning in 2006. Her voice was something I’ve never heard before, probably because the last thing you think about as a parent is having to bury your child. The pain in her voice is resonating in my head as I type this entry.

As I find myself sitting here in a suburban Indianapolis hotel killing some time before dinner, I pulled a nice cold bottle of water out of my rooms minifridge which brought back memories of one the better moments of my life when I was younger, had better hair, and had zero fucks to give about what was going on in the world if it didn’t directly effect me.

I can’t pinpoint the exact year the following conversation happened, but I’d imagine sometime around 2001 if I were a betting man. It all started when Devon, whom I will refer to as “The Dude” for the rest of this blog entry, was a hard-working young man grinding out his evenings at the local Taco Bell. So many times I would go through the drive-thru while he was working and order my standard six regular hard tacos just for him to “hook me up” with a free upgrade to taco supremes. I never did have the heart to tell him I hated sour cream.

While working at Taco Bell, The Dude discovered that a female co-worker who was probably 4 to 6 years older liked black guys. I don’t recall using the term “BBC” during this period. The two decided they would have some fun outside of work one afternoon at the apartment that The Dude shared with his mom.

When the big day arrived, I got a call from The Dude in a panic. “Hey, how do you get a boner to go away without jerking off?” The Dude asked me. “I’ve already showered and I don’t want to get it dirty, but I don’t want to seem too excited,” he continued. The only solution I could offer was to attempt to cut the circulation with a rubber band.

The next day, when I talked with The Dude, I found out everything was good and the solution was right in the kitchen, as The Dude stated that “all I had to do was dip my penis in the pitcher of ice water my mom keeps in the fridge.”

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of The Dude, even after 19 years.

He never did answer me when I asked him if he at least dumped out and cleaned the pitcher but I still love and miss him anyway.

Until we meet again, Dude.