Wednesday, January 13

Journal In A Jar - Part 2: 'The Hole To Hell.'



"Describe A Favorite Childhood Friend, And Some Things You Did With Him Or Her."

When I was a kid, it's safe to assume that my best friend was my cousin, Scott. We had one of those relationships where we read each others' mind; could crack each other up just by looking at each other. We made each other funnier; our ideas were better when we worked on them together. Our projects and aspirations legendary in our own minds. We spoke our own language; invented our own slang. Created a world that was isolated, yet contained pretty much everything that made me happy at the time.

I was never more creative than when I worked on something with Scott. We wrote songs. Acted out sketches. Recorded ourselves announcing baseball and football games. We would play basketball until it was pitch-black outside. It was always 100%, and it was never work or forced, because it was always fun as hell. We did this for over a decade until the rigors of impending adulthood forced us out of our cocoons and into the real world. I still miss it sometimes.

One of my earliest memories of myself and Scott was when we were small children, playing in my sandbox in the backyard of my first house. The sandbox in question was an old tractor tire that had been filled with no more than 18 inches of sand. It was on this day that me and Scott decided that we were going to dig our way to Hell. That's right; we were going to be the first humans in recorded history to actually dig a hole so deep that it would pop us straight through to the center of the Earth. A place where, as Catholics, we believed Hell was.

Digging was easy at first; we used an old Tupperware cup to do most of the dirty work. The trouble started once we reached the 18-inch line: we were now through the sand, digging into the soil of my backyard. The soil was black; our town had a ton of bedrock that more or less forced you to use dynamite if you wanted to put a basement in your home. The hole at this point couldn't have been more than two feet deep and 6 inches wide.

I stuck my hand inside of it to check the temperature.

"It's getting hot!" I shouted gleefully. "We're almost there!"



Scott's on the left, I'm on the right. Unfortunately, we never made it to Hell.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day. For more information on Journal In A Jar, click here.

Comments:
Nothing will keep two small boys busier than dirt. Well, maybe a pile of rocks.

What's Scott doing now?
 
He's doing the same thing I'm doing; working, trying to make it, stuff like that. We see each other during the holidays and whatnot; we know we're never more than a phone call away.
 
I'm seriously melting over here from all of the adorable.
 
Me and Sherry tried to shovel to China, because that's what my parents said we'd reach if we kept digging. Didn't find China, but we did realize that many different types of bugs procreate deep in the dirt.
 
Whenever I start a story about me and my childhood best friend it goes "whatever we did, we thought it would always be better if we did it naked"
 

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