Evil, but Fun ( His Words, Not Mine)

(private files)

My friend T-man and I have shared some weird telepathic thing for many years. It is the sort of thing that happens when I would be thinking of him one minute and he would call the next. Even if we hadn't spoken in a really long time, this would happen. Or if I started to crave a cigarette, which I don't smoke, Troy (who smokes) was usually somewhere in the vicinity. 

Well, in our most recent adventures, we had a weekend-long kitchen party. It was fantastic, as far as my own personal definition of the term actually goes. He took me out for dinner. We explored the back roads.

When I first picked him up, he asked if we could make a pit stop at the grocery store so he could grab a case of beer. Sure thing. He offered to get me a bottle of wine. Sure thing. 

He went into the store. He returned to the car several minutes later. He said nothing, but laughed under his breath. There was something in the way his laugh sounded. I had an idea of what he was thinking. 

"Let me guess," I said. You got me something with the word Devil on it... the devil's wine or something like that?"

He started to laugh. He pulled the wine out of the bag. Sure enough; Casillero de Diablo. I shook my head.  I just knew it and he became properly freaked out by that fact, naturally. And then I laughed and shouted to the sky, "I just knew it!" 

This strange man is hardwired into my brain, and vice versa. The love/hate thing we have going on is slowly morphing into a quiet and mutual reverence to the fact that neither of us quite know why the f--k this is happening. This friendship is built out of cussing, sideways glares, endless debates about God, and an alien-esque mind-reading type thing. It is baffling. It is amusing. 

As for the wine? I haven't opened it yet. I think I will save it for a special occasion.