World of Ong

Ah yes, the university years once again. This piece is still a mystery to me. Let me give you a little background of where I was at during this time.

My 3rd year in college I used to live in this mad house. It was off the beaten track and we had plenty of roommates and a barnyard kind of scene. 5 dogs and 3 cats that always used to play chase throughout the whole house. I wanted a couple chickens to chase the cats just to add to the mix. I never did get any. This is the house where we had the infamous nude parties, which entailed drinking, body painting and all other forms of artful expression.

One day after a day of class, I arrived at my home. Only to find the door wide open and in direct line of the doorway was our piano, and on that piano sat my good friend Perry. Butt naked playing and singing "Imagine" by John Lennon on the piano, with a half full fifth of Vodka for the entire world to see passing by. I walk past, shaking my head, and into the kitchen. Where my three other roommates are, with glazed over eyes of crazy men. They are apparently cooking something. I ask and they reply with eyes wide open and an evil smile, "Hash brownies, man!" Meanwhile, in the garage, the catholic school girl and her gothic entourage are raving it up with a huge pile of crystal methamphetamine. I put my hands in the air with defeat and head back to my room, passing the Hippie's room, I look in, and he is drumming slowly on his djembe drum chanting "Schumbi… Schumbi… Schumbi." Earlier that day, his dog "spoke" to him, and the name he was chanting was what the dog said that he wanted to be named. I turn direction and entered my room - the so called opium den. With its colorful tapestries hanging from walls and ceiling, fish netting holding shells and odd trinkets, the custom made hookah chair in the corner and the psychedelic cloth prints on the wall laced with phosphorous for when the black light kicked on.

Here in my snuggly little fabricated womb I found solstice and I went on a quest for that dreaded "L" word. Yes, love. So I asked one of the female roommates about how to find a woman. She said, "You are not an asshole. Women love assholes and you are just not one of them."

With this new enlightenment, I head to a party later that night with two fifths of tequila and my new costume of "assholiness". That night, I was slapped 33 times. Apparently I played the part of the "Too much of an asshole." Giving up, I partake in the finishing off both bottles of tequila. Around 2am, my bottles are empty and I am little out of my mind, I decide to call it a night and go home.

I remember getting to my truck, then looking at the keys in my hand, then looking back at my truck, looking at the keys, the truck. I do this a few times then just laugh out loud and throw my keys at my truck. I decide to walk home since I was in no state of driving. It's a good four mile walk.

Walking down a barely lit back road in the middle of a Flagstaff forest, I happen upon a Volkswagen Bug's hubcap. At this point I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I snatched it up and shoved it underneath my shirt. Now walking in the middle of the road on the yellow line, this is the first time ever that I can remember that I lost motor skills. My legs gave out beneath me and I am now lying in the middle of the road upon the yellow line. Staring at the stars, I just say "Wow. What the hell just happened?" Pick myself up and continue walking.

When I was a boy, I always heard of horror stories of the local Apache Indians of how if you crossed into their reservation, you had a good chance of being stabbed. I later found out this was just a scare tactic so that I wouldn't run off without my family.

Walking again now with the hubcap under my shirt thinking to myself, "Oh yeah, I am well protected! Somebody please try to stab me! I can survive!" This was apparently the crazy tequila talking. Behind me, I see headlights coming down the road. I walk to the side and stick out my thumb, getting tired of walking. An old '78 Ford pickup passes by and stops for me. I jump into the cab. The Navajo inside asks, "Where ya headed?" I tell him, and he says he can drop me a block off of my destination.

Now sitting in the cab, hubcap in place, I am repeatedly thinking over and over again, come on, stab me. Stab me! I ask the man his name. He says "Nick." I think to myself that that isn't a very Native American name. After that, we get along gloriously.

Without incident he drops me off a block from my home, I thank him for the ride and I press on. Now thinking on the way home, "I am going to rape Perry". Perry always plays that "gay" card with me at other times. You know, the straight man's game of trying to test your best friend's manhood? Blowing kisses, fondling my chest, the works. So I decide to turn the tables on him.

I walk into the house and jump on him. He hits the floor and I am on top trying to rip his shirt off. To this day, he still believes that I was trying to sodomize him. After much wrestling and maniacal laughter, I see London. London was this creepy chick that used to hang around our home. She was this gorgeous half Cherokee, half German girl with these gigantic glasses but her mind wasn't always there. When I see her standing over us, I release my grip from Perry's shirt collar and he falls to the ground. I grab London and throw her over my shoulder and make for my bedroom.

The next morning after London left, on my drafting table, I noticed a sketch of what you see here. I don't even remember sketching this thing. I later water colored in the rest, but I believe it was a commentary about love and relationships. Not to mention the stings of the 33 slaps.

# posted by Juanito the Bandito @ 8:13 PM