Thursday, April 21, 2011

Thank God We Found and Tamed Those Frogdogs

I had this buddy in college named Aron (Yes, with one 'A'). Aron was maybe the best story teller I have ever been around. He was so good in fact, that I unknowingly began to mimic his mannerisms and pattern of speech in my own stories because they seemed to illicit peals of laughter independent of what he was actually saying. I also appropriated a good number of his stories and made them my own, or at least retold them as I-have-this-buddy-who stories.

No one had better stories. Everyone in every story had a great name, and if they didn't, they had a great nickname. There was Steve Ignash who everyone called Jaws. Johnny Yelverton (whose nickname escapes me). Stu who clearly didn't need a nickname and was actually in college with us at the same time so any story involving him could be immediately corroborated to make sure it wasn't total BS, and many of Aron's stories seemed like they had to be total BS.

There was a story about his summer camp counselor, Mr. Moon, who had a tendency to absolutely flip his shit and scream at the slightest provocation or violation of camp rules. Shortly after directing his wrath at a young and terrified Aron, he was arrested for murdering his mother with a hammer. There was the story about the Korean gang fight at his high school where everyone was LITERALLY Kung Fu fighting. There was the story about two mall hoods who tried to steal a shirt from Aron while he was wearing it. There was the story, light on details, about his father and something involving a bank robbery (Aron liked to say 'heist'). There was a famous story, often retold, about a conversation Aron overheard at a truck stop coffee bar at three in the morning between a trucker and two women Aron described as "Rode hard Biker bitches." Actually, it wasn't so much a conversation as a monologue by the trucker told for the benefit of the "biker bitches." The monologue went thusly:

"So there I was, right? And me and the bitch are getting it on. The bitch has whipped cream all over her. Things are gettin' hot and right as I'm about to blow my load, I grab one of the empty whipped cream bottles and I start to get high. Then the bitch gets mad at me. What's up with that?"

Ridiculous and absurd things like this seemed to only ever happen to Aron. Or maybe they happened to us all, but he was the only one tuned to hear, synthesize, embellish, and retell them to hilarious effect. He was/is a screenwriter so that must say something.

When he didn't have any material based in reality, Aron had no problem turning to his dreams for our entertainment. One dream in particular stands out in my mind.

"So we're on this island, right? All of us. And it's like fucking Water World and the water is continuing to rise. We're all running up to the top of this island and scrambling to stay ahead of the rising water. There are old women and babies and dogs and just a fuck ton of people, right? Everyone scrambling. I'm ahead a bit and I turn around to see this old lady with the water lapping right at her heels and I'm thinking, 'Man, that old lady better put it in gear,' and right as I think this, the BIGGEST FUCKING CROCODILE I have ever seen springs from the water and chomps her right in half. I'm like, 'Holy fuck!' --"

At this point in the story, Aron executed one of his patented mannerisms which was sort of a wide eyed look of shock combined with a partly agape mouth and a casual point for about a two beat pause. Clearly, I can't recreate this via the written word, but you get the point.

"-- So I turn around and start sprinting to the top of the island and there's very little room left up there and the water's still rising and now I know there are these massive, prehistoric killer crocodiles rising with the water. So, we all get to the top of the island and there's nowhere else to go. We're totally screwed. The water's almost to us and one of those massive crocodiles jumps out of the water at us. Right at that moment, this fucking mix between a dog and a frog, but like a vicious frog with fangs and a dog body, leaps out of nowhere and starts attacking the crocodile. Then there are like twelve more and they just shred the fucking crocodile. All I remember thinking is, 'Thank God we found and tamed those frogdogs and they're on our side.' Wildest thing I ever saw."

I'm thinking more the above and less the below.


Anonymous said...

The SLC pool bleached my uterus.

Jeane said...

Ha...I need to hang out with your friend! I kind of prefer the second dog but I am a wimp and want big ass frogdogs. And a strong drink!Thanks for the link...will link you back.

papa said...

great story! The fact that i refer to my lab as a frogdog for some reason made it all the better.

Anonymous said...

The SLC pool bleached my uterus is still the greatest untold story in the history of ever. I am Aron Watman, and I approve this message.