So we were just kids, hanging out at the plaza in downtown Lombard right next to the 7-11.  I think I was with Jake, Matt, Aj, and Fat Steve.  We were innocent, just a few 14 to 16 year old kids laughing together and having a good time without a care in the world.  Well, I guess except for me.  I was on 16 pills of what I liked to call the old western “Treso Seiso”. 

In less obscure slang, Triple-C.  In proper English, it’s Coricidin Cough and Cold medicine, but I never liked to call it that.  I would call it Triple-C so it would sound like some new crazy drug and that I was one of the only kids doing it (which was true, at least in my circle of friends).  Another reason for the nicknames I made for it (Threesies, Skittles, C’s, Three’s, etc.) was to hide from people the fact that I was, in reality, a spoiled, loser suburbanite kid who liked to get high off of a cough medicine.  “Dude let’s go do some Triple-C!” or “Dude let’s go do some cough medicine!”- Which one sounds cooler?

But anyway, we were sitting in the little square where there were plants surrounding us (for the most part) in a bunch of raised brick gardens filled with dirt.  They had those little metal gadgets that were screwed into the edges of the concrete borders of the gardens to prevent skaters from grinding on it.  My friends were sitting on a few metal benches, eating Airheads and Charleston Chews while taking sips from their Slurpees , watching the only one who was standing up- me.  They offered me some of their treats, but I declined, I was never hungry, at least in this state.  When I think about it, it’s actually not too farfetched to say that I was almost never hungry in general, because of how often I got screwed up from those pills. 

                I was ranting odd and insane stories, making everyone laugh.  There was this guy who worked at Buona Pizza across the street, and for so long, since I was around 12 years old, I would see him go up to the grade school skaters and offer to buy them cigarettes.  “Look at this guy,” I said, “He’s the Cigarette Badger!”  Everyone hesitated for a moment before they started laughing.  They asked me what I was talking about.  I thought I was making perfect sense, I mean, he bought cigarettes for kids, and he looked like a badger.  Thus, “Cigarette Badger”, was I so wrong in saying that?  My friends continued to curl and scream with laughter.