fightinfunbags
Well-Known Member
Haha! Story delivered. Thanks. Good luck on Sunday (not really but it sounds like a nice thing to say.)Alright I told you it was a long story...
So how does a guy who grew up going to church and never spent a night in jail come home to find a crackhead hiding under his couch?
From 1995 to 2005 I lived in Independence, MO. Fellow Chiefs fans will know this is a suburb of KC that for some time was touted as the meth capital of America. My churchy parents lived just outside St. Louis and my significantly more relaxed aunt and uncle lived in Independence. I try to stay close to family so of course I took the path of least resistance.
My cousin was a gifted student in high school but totally diverged from that and seemed more comfortable living on the slightly wilder side. He became more of a friend more than a relative over time and we went to rock concerts, he hooked me up with weed and just generally helped me experience my 20s in a way that I never would have on my own.
Sooo in 1999 I got my first apartment and he would come over with his various friends and it was really just a place to party and I thought it was great. As time went on I said dude you might as well just crash here, just try to keep it quiet after midnight(I worked nights).
After awhile I started noticing a short shady-looking young person hanging around outside my apartment when I came home from work. I mentioned that to my cousin one time and my cousin told me his name was Smokey and he had a crack problem. My cousin is the type who would talk to anybody so I didn't really think much of it.
One morning I come back from work and sat down in the living room on the $200 futon that my cousin stole from a local department store. It was a questionable issue but this poor guy in his 20s didn't have the willpower to argue about that detail.
I'm sitting there downing beers and just bullshitting with my cousin and I hear something inexplicable from under the futon. At first I was too lazy to look under the futon but curiosity kept building and I finally leaned over and looked under the couch.
There was Smokey, looking right back at me with really big whites in his eyes. I'm not a big guy but my cousin knew I had a line you don't cross and in a weird move, he started crying as I yanked the futon away from the wall to expose this uninvited guest.
After helping Smokey to the door and telling him not to come back, I turned to my cousin who had just spent the past 30 minutes talking to me knowing full well his crackhead buddy was hiding under the couch. I told him to grab his shit and get out the door too.
EPILOGUE
Time went on and I eventually moved away from KC, some of this coinciding with the decline of the Chiefs in the 2000's, and over time I forgave my cousin and we still text and do some online gaming every once in awhile. And years later I still had random friends of friends getting great enjoyment out of asking me about the time I found a crackhead under my couch.