My name is Josh and Im an 18 year old whatever. Id like to think that Im rather normal but sometimes it feels like some kind of fate changing fairy-thing is always watching my every move and ready to change any event in the blink of an eye. What I have said may be confusing to you but to be completely honest, it confuses me as well. This thought pattern all started because of an incident in 2011 involving my neighbor at the time. His name was Bobby and he was 14 years old. Teenaged boys are always rather adventurous as we all know (Considering I am still one) but sometimes.there are just these certain kids that.make us question EVERYTHING. Well, my family had just moved into a duplex behind an elementary school where my mother taught. I was living with my mother, brother, and sister at the time and us kids were not too happy about the move. I had decided that in order to make this duplex home and to not be so grouchy about it, I would go make some friends.
There was a rather tall but chunky teenaged boy playing basketball in his driveway about three whole duplexes down the road with one of those portable basketball goals. The kid he was playing with was a small girl that couldnt be older than seven. I had assumed that she was his sister (boy was I wrong) so I approached the kids to be friendly. I remember walking up his driveway only to see him giving me this weird look that made him look like he was either constipated or in great pain. While the wind started to lightly blow my hair, I said the most stereotypical teen thing, Sup homies?. I am not and was not a very popular kid, so when I try to fit in.well you get the picture. The kid just continued to stare at me. He had on a pair of brown glasses that made his eyes look small, and he was wearing a weird neon-greenish-yellowish Nike hoodie. Noticing that he was still staring at me, I chuckled a bit and then asked if we could all play together. He just kept staring at me however so I did the only thing that I could think of doing, I turned around and sprinted home.
Now you can call me a baby for running away from the scary kid that stared at me with a constipated face, or you can understand that when you are as socially awkward as I am, that kind of things is like Freddy Krueger coming out of your toilet.or am I thinking of The Hills Have Eyes? Freddy Krueger coming out of your toilet would be pretty terrifying though...Well anyhow I told my mother about what happened and she just kind of laughed at me. I felt like a moron so I decided Id try talking to him again. One day in mid october (about a month after moving to the duplex), I gathered up about as much Josh courage as I could and went to talk with the creepy kid once again. I saw that he was just walking up and down the road so I approached him. Using a much more subtle way of initiating conversation, I asked him if he was alright because he had looked rather upset about something. The kid stopped and looked at me. My fucking girl-friend fucking broke-up with me. Fuck! I am so fucking mad right now. Leave me the fuck alone dude. You are a fucking weirdo." I made the mistake of asking him who his girlfriend had been while trying to ignore the fact that he had just called ME a weirdo.. Although I was new to the neighborhood, I had lived in that town for four years so I figured Id know the girl if she was in either his or my grade. When he told me that it was that seven year-old girl however, I was kind of.yeah.
I had learned while talking with him that his name was Bobby and that he was 14. I walked back home kind of shocked that he had been dating (What did they do, sit on the swing eating Twinkies?) such a small child but also blown back by his excessive use of the F word. Now just from what I have told you so far, you may not think he is too weird yet but Im going to fast forward a little bit here. After about 3 months of living on that street, Bobby and I became friends... sort of... and we would talk or play light-tackle football. That was my idea because if we were to play full on tackle, him falling on me would have probably crushed the life out of me. Well one day I asked him if he wanted to play some light-tackle football with some friends that I had at my house. Of course he said yes for he loved to play sports as fat and stupid (Im sorry Bobby if you are reading this) as he was. Well, this game very well may have changed everything about how I viewed this strange kid. We were all in our stances facing each other and then Bobby told me to make him mad. I remember asking, What?. He once again told me to make him mad. I had remembered him saying that his mother had cancer and would probably die within in the next ten years so. naturally, thats what I went for.
I said, You are a stupid faggot. Go fuck your mom before she dies in ten years. Quickly now, I can hear her cancer eating away at her bones!. Instead of making him mad, it appeared that I pissed him off. Now when I say that I pissed him off Im very near talking literally. He seriously went red with rage and stood up. He pulled down his sweatpants he was wearing until his junk was completely out and then starting emptying his bladder on to my new plaid buttoned-up shirt my mother had bought me three days prior. I was frightened by his actions, so I started to run. Well Bobby was a fighter alright and continued to chase after me while continuing to pee. That kid was surprisingly fast for how chunky he was and his urine stream was surprisingly strong. I can honestly say that I have never been more terrified in my entire life. When he finished peeing, he stopped chasing me and just started to laugh really hard as if he found pissing on me amusing as could be.
My mother asked why I smelled like urine when I walked in our home. I straight up told her, Bobby got angry at me for telling him to have sexual intercourse with his dying mother so he took a whizz on me. While my mother was trying to comprehend what I had just told her, I left the living room and walked to my room before she could get mad at me. A few days later, I had just gotten home from school and was watching T.V. It was supposed to be my alone time until my siblings got home. While I was busy watching a crime show of some sort, I heard something hitting the window behind the couch that I was sitting on. I ignored it at first thinking that some little kids were throwing a football at the window or something because I had done it before and didnt really think that it would break the window. The sound of whatever it was that was hitting my window did, however, start to really distract me from what was happening on T.V. I opened the door to tell the kids to stop throwing things at my window but I saw that it was Bobby. He had the biggest grin I had ever seen on his face and he was holding a yellow bowl filled with chopped up watermelon. He grabbed another handful of watermelon and threw some at me.
I didnt really understand why he was doing this, but then again, I didnt really care. He did happen to be the definition of weird. I just turned around and walked back inside my house so I could find out who killed who. A few months later, we moved away from the duplex and into a two story home. Although I was finally away from Bobby, I did see him at school once in a while but we never talked. I have continued to have some strange things happen to me but Bobby will always be that weird guy that peed on me and then continued to chase me when I tried fleeing the scene. Now that Im 18 though, I just warn the younger teens to never insult another persons mother or you could end up explaining to YOUR mother why you reeked of Ammonia like I had to. Although we dont talk anymore, he will always be a person Ill remember. I still occasionally have nightmares of fat guys chasing me while yelling, Come back and let me piss on you! Images like that dont ever leave your mind... they just dont. So whenever you are thinking, I have such a hard life, just remember what happened to me and then try saying that again. Perhaps it will still be hard but no matter what you are going through, you could always smell like your weird neighbors piss.