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Saturday, February 18, 2006
I think it's fair to say that we, all of us, have a certain denial about Petey's passing. I know I do. Sometimes I'll see someone in a Hawaiian shirt and I think 'Petey?' But I know it's not, and I know deep down that he ain't coming back. Petey was too straight-forward for coming back. He always said that he figured death was like a doorway to a world of naked ladies and dinosaurs. There was no way he'd leave that behind. That was always Petey's dream world, whether it was the afterlife or where he'd go when he finished building his spaceship. He started building his spaceship out of old rusted parts from Jane Parson's junk-yard. Some weeks he'd take us out there every night to help him gather up bits and pieces he needed. He talked about it like he knew what he was doing. "Guys, I need sixteen sparkplugs," he'd say. "No, wait," and he'd check his list, "yeah. Sixteen, guys." In the end, no matter how many we found, he'd always have to get them himself because ours were never exactly what he was looking for. One night, he needed three radiators and we thought he meant car radiators. So we dug out a few of them so he could pick through them and he just looked at us like we were crazy and went over to where all of the old household stuff was dumped and dug around until he found a radiator. We didn't say a word, just started digging around trying to find a couple more. After a few minutes we had enough and he seemed happy with the ones we'd found. I think that was because he knew that he wasn't going to find anymore. When we were dragging them off, Jane Parson came out shining around that big old spotlight of hers and we would've took off running but it's hard to run with these radiators and Petey said his spaceship wouldn't be able to take off without those exact ones. So we just stood there like a bunch of idiots and she kept shining the spotlight right in our eyes until she got up to us. We couldn't see her face but she was laughing and handed Petey a paper bag and told him good luck and god bless with the spaceship. We were still shook up on the way back to the barn, but we weren't in trouble so that was okay. The bag was full of some old screws Petey said he'd asked her to collect for him, they had to be just the right size. He never did finish that spaceship, it's still out there in the barn and it would be rusting if it wasn't already so rusted up. I hope Petey was right about heaven, even though I'm not too fond of dinosaurs. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:3:15 PM
If there was one really true thing you could say about Petey, it was that he was always active. His mind was constantly racing with new and exciting things to do and fantasies to fulfill. Most of them were rubbish, like the one where he wanted us all to dress like drag queens and go christmas caroling in the late spring. That wasn't the worst one, but it gives you an idea of how Petey's mind worked, not that I presume to truly comprehend what went on in his head. He liked to get us all in on these ventures of his; he said he thought them up as a group activity and he'd have to rethink them if we didn't go along with it and inspiration like this didn't come often. Usually the rest of us would decline and awkwardly avoid his earnest, hopeful gaze. None of us wanted to put on a dress and sing "The First Noel" and be drowned out by Petey's shrill soprano voice. At the same time, we enjoyed the light in his eyes as he explained every detail to us and the exaggerated gesturing he used. It made us proud to be his friend and it killed us that we didn't always have the balls to go through with it. That being said, it was a shock the day he announced calmly that he was going to streak down main street and we were not invited. He wasn't saying it to lord it over us. There was no animosity in his tone whatsoever. This one was for him. We were all sitting in Old Man Rothschild's kitchen when he made the announcement. We hated Old Man Rothschild with every fibre of our being due to his stealing fifteen of our frisbees when they came into his yard back seven or eight years ago. That was before we met Petey and our lives changed for ever. We never touched a frisbee again once Petey was around, but we still hated Old Man Rothschild. Now he had cancer though, and was confined to his bed upstairs, and since he had air conditioning and his buxom niece came by with cookies every week, we figured it would be a good way to even the score. This, by the way, was Petey's idea, and one that we all easily consented to. "I'm doing it alone," he said when he was finished with the cookies, and we were kind of shocked and no one said anything for awhile. "Right now?" someone asked. "Yeah." And he slowly got up and took off his shirt and pants, put his underwear over his head, and walked out of the room. We all felt guilty for some reason. It was the closest we'd ever come to feeling like we betrayed Petey, but we all knew that if any of us had made a single move to follow him he wouldn't have gone through with it. This was something he did for himself, and when he got back, panting and sweaty and still wearing his underwear on his head, partially covering a wide grin, none of us spoke to him and we never spoke of it again. I wish we could say that after that we always went along with Petey no matter what, but everything stayed the same. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:2:31 PM |
