A Brief History of Love and Child Molestation

Dexter…Otis…Green. A.K.A. Andrew…he is also MY friend. Our friendship began before we even met. How is this possible? Well, hold onto your butts! Here we go!

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, two of my compadres from the land East of Hartford were forced to attend the University of Connecticut ‘s summer program for incoming freshmen who might need a * push * toward the world of academia. Of course, I don’t think my friends needed this push, but that is not the issue. These friends came home on the weekends and told me stories of one of their roommates; a thin, black, scary young man who was quiet at first-a man of the introverted persuasion. As the world moved on, the young man opened up to my friends from the hood (as black people will often do). He was intrigued by a game of

Advanced

Dungeons and Dragons my friends were playing. He asked if he could play. Milo was born (only to perish in the February of 1999 in an accident with a match, I believe). The choice young Andrew made to put down his copy of Stephen King’s It to join the game of young men’s search for power and blood was the choice that changed his life forever. And ultimately mine.

Through my many discussions with my East Hartford friends, I heard of their hysterical adventures with the burly-challenged stranger. They came home with stories of “love and child molestation,” as well as the joys of pedophilia. I was dumbfounded. Now, I have always been known to hang out with nutty people. Sometimes crazy people. Most always…fucked-up people. The stories I heard about this dark one known as Drew took the whole friggin’ bakery. Never before had I heard of anyone with as few reservations as this guy. I never thought I would be lucky enough to meet him, but only time could tell…could and would.

Fast forward to the days of enlightenment: UCMB preseason. I was scared. I was intimidated. I wanted to tear out the larynx of a kid named Floyd Kellogg (he was an ass). All the same, I was enjoying myself and searching for my niche. I joined the UCMB by myself. There were no other East Hartfordites from my graduating class who joined the marching band. I befriended a couple of guys from the drumline and joined them one evening during the UCMB pizza dinner on the lawn next to one of most foul lakes (ponds) in pollution history. It was here history was made.

I sat quietly, chomping on cheesy goodness, listening to the conversation of others. It was an interesting mix of people: a stoner, a goof, a rocker, and many others…including a lanky, somewhat angered, black boy. This guy was off his rocker! His vulgar, yet cleansing language both offended me and liberated me at the same time. I wanted more. I sat and listened intently for twenty more minutes, and then it came; the thin one began to rant about love and child molestation out of nowhere. I thought to myself,

Sex with monkeys

“Oh, shit! I know this bit. I have heard this before…but where?” And then it hit me—a Frisbee thrown by a stupid trumpet player…no, no, no…I recognized the bit and asked this oh-so-skeletal one whether he knew my friends. He looked at me with

demonic

confused eyes and asked me my name. I told him. He laughed and told me he was indeed the very Andrew I heard about. What a small, friggin’ world! After our first introduction, the rest of the friendship came easy.

Days of fun and laughter with Drew quickly became months. We always had a blast. We would frequent the same parties, drink the same beer, talk about similar interests, and piss out the same windows. I couldn’t have found a better friend my first year of college. He was a nut, no doubt, but…unknown to many of our peers to this day…there is a very serious side to this emaciated, mysterious young man. It was the serious side that intrigued me. The serious side led to the formation of the D.S.S.-an organization bent on world domination and the sharing of one’s soul. Sometimes this soul sharing would lead to very deep and long (no comment) discussions, sometimes it would lead to the purchasing of a new pack of Camels. Whatever occurred during these meetings, not another soul on this planet could ever, and will ever, be able to comprehend the purely masculine compassion between its members. Friendships were formed, and some dissipated, but to this day I remain friends with Drew for more than the laughs he brings to any gathering. I remain friends with Drew because he is one of the most genuine individuals I will ever know. His brute honesty and outgoing character sometimes hide what I know from experience: Drew is an intelligent and strong but humble individual with a heart of gold and the will to fight anything thrown his way. For these reasons, as well as his devotion to being a friend at all costs, I will never willingly leave his circle. If it ever happens, it won’t really matter because I will always be there to help and be a friend when needed. The past seven years have been quite an adventure. Boston may be 90.67 miles from my current habitat, but the link between Drew and I can never be severed…I dare you to try.

And now… I offer you a look at some of the exciting moments in time Drew and I have to look back at and cherish. Some of these anecdotes may not make much sense to you, but I don’t care; this site is really for my enjoyment…not yours.

Milo
A belt being torn to shreds as Drew attempted to exit his pants in a timely fashion with intent to piss.
D.S.S.
Drew’s introduction to Jeff Motola: “Hi, I’m Jeff.”

“Ehhhhh.” (drunken moan)
Alcove
Mr. Miagi
Keys (the drama geek)
Doogan
The C.G./J.L/L.D fiasco
Vermont, Vermont, Vermont.
Ja*%$, A.K.A. The Beast
Drew, a big-boned lady, a Boston hat, making out at the Rootin’ Tootin’
Walking in a blizzard from Windsor to Ellington.
Waking up naked next to __________.
Banana-Nut!
“I am lovable…yes?”
“Gimme your wallet!”
Putting up with my Junior-year love problems
Yo-yos (complete with holster)
…And much more to come.

El Fin.