I watched him hit the pipe, shaped like a leprechaun. He said ten more hits and he would feel high, so to add to his anxiety we played ding dong ditch. It must have been the summer after high school ended, before everyone moved away, then came back, then moved away, then came back again, then moved away, then some less people came back, but still, people came back, and then moved away again, and then came back and some stayed while others left and came back and others never came back and I stayed and left and came back and got mad that I came back, so I left and never came back. This was before all of that. This was when Devin still lived on Brook Street. Mark was not in the picture frame on the mantle yet. Devin’s doop ditched his family for Jesus, went away to make new babies with another whore of Christ, tried to brainwash my asshole with a balloon bag on stage to an audience of embarrassed heathens. I never spoke to him after that, after all, he was Devin’s dad. Enter: Mark the pilot. Actually he was a part of the life. He gave Devin 100$ for his high school graduation. We were in the front yard, my brother was ditching his friends to chill with mine and we played Surge don’t touch the ground or you get raped in the ass by a gang of wet virgins. (It sounds like breathing.) I was getting my ass raped at the graduation party when Mark and his mustache was taken onto the field by Lois, to present Devin with the dollars. I had never been sweatier and now deep blue and hiding in bushes. Whenever time passes, this was before Amanda grew into a woman and the first time I noticed the existence of the World Cup. Dave offered the leprechaun after he sucked it and I declined. Everyone now realizes where they went wrong and how little it mattered to them and how they might still be doing it now.