Game Nights

December 23rd, 1983,

Lexington, MA.

The squeak. It all started with a squeak, then a glow, finally camp speech about the best friend you didn't even know. But For me it was the squeak, that's where it started. It started with a squeak before the squeak I guess you could say I was trading at my height underneath my feet. The squeak yeah that's where it all started. The squeak was the key. The squeak changed everything about me. It's where defense began and my offense glowed alight. The faintest squeak, Tuesday night's. I wasn't sure what it was, it came and went only every now and then but the buzz, my guts, indeed it was something and suddenly i no longer had nothing.

The squeak it wasn't an old hinge creek, nails on the chalkboard it was almost like a carnival my survivals reward. And then there was peace. The squeak. Teased me to come and take a peak. It came last Tuesday never on a Monday ever had I heard that squeak. That wonderful squeak, Kings and Queens had bowed to your feet! Oh bless your mighty squeak for your make sad history delete. Bless you the squeak.

See before the squeak I'd spent a lot of time thinking about time and how when you died it went on forever and ever and ever without your 1 of a kind mind.

Still, it was the 80's, so I had that, Saturday mornings and Casey Casan's top forty, yeah i hit that. I'd patiently wait for "break my stride" by Matthew Wilder and jump up and down higher and higher! Watching sugary cereal, fun burst commercials, turning the large silver knob, watching the red energy bars pulsate on our grey Sony stereo like rich tiny morsels.

Believe it or not Saturday mornings was all I had before those shiny squeaks I now heard some nights at the high school across the street. Winter nights, staring out my window, through tall, sticky pine trees, I heard this squeak like windex and a paper towel how it squeaked.

The squeaks somehow brought life 2 our short dead end street, shaped like an elbow across from the squeak. The squeaks were like plumbing for my brain. The squeak, it twisted the sound in my ear awakened my slumber like good Saturday morning cheer.

The squeaking, what was that? It turned my brain off, turned up the cool, burned in me like a fire this mysterious squeaking coming from the back of the old high school. I lived on 22 Sherwood Court, the shortest street in town for this squeak to court. Me and only me! It was something you could not see behind this glow it felt like Christmas Eve! Bless you dear squeak, until you sound again with me you got the dearest of one good friend. Until we meet we again.