The Road To Glory

The Funny Thing About Hedgehogs...

*****Brandon Tucker*****

This is sort of a weird format. I'm not really into writing the way Weathers is, but he says if I just record myself talking, he'll script it out for me and (in his words) try not to make me sound like a complete dumbfuck. Anyway, I'm talking about the day after the second game of senior year, right?

Alright, cool. I'll try and see what I remember. Around that time, Adrianne and I were having some relationship troubles. We were fighting a lot, and it seemed like every conversation we had was a big , dumb disagreement. I remember that, at the time, I really missed when we first began dating and she at least pretended to like football. At that point, she just treated it like this big, high-school popularity conspiracy that doubled as a really bad joke and I didn't understand why. Football wasn't, and isn't, just some game for me. It wasn't just a game for most of Watson, and that went at least triple for Justin. As far as I've read on here, one thing he hasn't done justice to is how much that guy lives and breathes football.

I know; I spent most of my summers with the guy growing up. To this day, he can probably name you, off the top of his head, pretty much every player and coach on the Carolina Panthers roster. He's that dedicated to the game of football, I can promise you that. All three of you that are reading this, anyway. Anyway, that's not what I'm here for.

My first memory of that day was waking up on a pool table, drooling into one of the pockets. Most of the party had cleared out, by the looks of it. Most of the people left were various girls doing the whole walk of shame, and football players who hadn't managed to get any passed out around the room. The night itself was a bit of a blur. There'd been a fight, some dancing, and lots of boozing. Altogether, one of the best parties of senior year. I was still a little pissed at Weathers for not coming out, but not enough to really make a huge deal out of it.

Lachowski stirred, rolling off of the couch and slumping onto the floor.

"Motherfucker," he grumbled "Who took the safety rails off my bed?"

"Bed?" Lewis asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he looked up "That ain't a bed. Your ass took a little dirt nap, by the looks of it."

"What the hell?" Lachowski asked, looking around "I'm still here? This ain't right. Lewis, you'd better be getting me some damn bacon and pancakes!"

"Yeah, sure," Lewis argued "Make the only brother in the room get you food. Just because the lady on the syrup bottle is black doesn't mean I know how to make no damn pancakes. You could've asked Tucker, he's sitting right there!"

"Being black has nothing to do with it," Lachowski shot back "The fact that both your parents run a restaurant is what makes me think you can cook, jackass. Maybe I wanted those pancakes to give to Tucker because he looks like he needs to eat. You saying because I'm fat, I must want pancakes? Who's stereotyping now, bitch?"

"I don't want any pancakes," I grumbled "I feel like I'm gonna hurl."

"Quiet down Tucker," Lachowski snapped "You want some pancakes, and you want them right fucking now. Right?"

"No," I grumbled "I don't."

Lewis laughed, and stood up to go into the kitchen. Once the volume of the room died down, I sat there trying to take stock of what had went on the previous night and how to proceed. I pulled out my cellphone, and checked it to see what I'd missed. 

A solid half-dozen missed texts from Adrianne. Another two missed calls. Most of them were basically that she wanted to talk to me about something, but a couple just asked where I was. Adrianne never really liked when I partied. If anything, it just made her upset. She never went herself. She thought football parties were just a bunch of drunken, gropey jocks who didn't know the meaning of "No". There was a degree of truth to that, but that's what made the parties so fun. Rolling with the boys, having a few beers and getting a bit crazy.