When you throw a go to jail party, you should plan on there being a lot of bad things happening. It occurs to the party-goers that this is a celebration of illegality, and they therefore think that it is acceptable to bring and do illegal things.
This is a wrong assumption. A go to jail party is a celebration of the last little bit of freedom that someone has left before their incarceration, and so enjoyment is the key.
Good food, good company, good music, good drink, and much laughter.
But assholes will always attend and they will bring drugs, armament, and bad attitudes. Plan accordingly.
It's a good idea to not have a go to jail party at your own place. It's better to rent out a motel room, head to the hills, or break into an abandoned warehouse, but never, ever have it at your own place.
Tellesco stepped up and offered to have it at his place.
My estimation of his awareness lowered, but my appreciation of it arose.
Tellesco drove Sean and Bryan and me in his Jeep to his house, which was empty for the next week and a half.
It was a long, narrow ranch with a four bay garage on one end, and a pool in the back yard.
There was a long deck along the rear side of the house, perfect for a band.
We didn't know it at the time, but it would be the first three-day-party we would ever have. It would not be the last. Except never again at Tellesco's house.
Now Tellesco lived on the upper west side of Fuckno, and it was a bit of a drive out to where one could find a country club, long, wide lawns, and the smell of cow shit.
There were orchards of fig trees out there. Figging is a term I would come to know during this party.
Sean's older brother Ant-knee got his buds to play. They were into some new sound called "ska." They dressed like punks.
Ant-knee was a preppie kid. He wore his pink Polo and lime Izod shirts with the collars up, and sported pink and yellow plaid shorts. He got the rich girls in the sack, and drove their Karmann Ghia's around, although he was as poor as me and Sean. He had game, but not the kind of game I could respect. It was like the opposite of punkology.
I had no idea what that term meant at the time; I only knew that it was opposite of what mattered to me then.
But he brought the ska. Amen.
PARTY DAY ONE
"Sean, nobody is coming."
"Tellesco, it's only four. Go get me a beer and then jump in the pool."
Sean nestled into the wicker chair and rubbed his Buddha belly. "I'm fixin to get some ribs going on the grill." I looked at him as his eyes closed in the waning sunlight of the winter day. He smiled as he thought of how those ribs would taste. Never trust a bald barber, nor a skinny chef.
Tellesco reappeared with a beer for Sean, then he turned and ran full speed, blasting a cannonball into the heated pool.
Sean chuckled and opened his beer. "This is the life."
I just looked at him as I sipped my own brewskie. Then I said, "You could stand to live out here in the sticks like this?"
He shook his head. "Naw, not like these rich assholes. They doing it all wrong."
Now he had piqued my interest. "How do they have it wrong?"
Sean just looked at me and shook his own head slowly. "Dude. I expect more than that from you."
"Willie-boy, think about how long it took these fucks to get this place. Now they taking a cruise. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo."
I leaned back in my own wicker chair and stretched, a really long, deep stretch complete with great big yawn. This guy was thinking too much. When I was done, I only looked up into the dark blue sky overhead for a few minutes, all spread out on the chair like a strangled piece of damp clothing.
Sean would wait. He was a very patient young man.
Finally I said, "Yup. They worked hard and now they get their reward. They didn't wait for the lottery."
Sean smiled. "Exactly."
I chugged my beer. I was going to leave him and get a fresh one before he killed my buzz. I wondered where the hell Bryan had gone off to.
Sean went on, "They worked and slaved their whole life, and now they old, and that is when they go take a cruise."
"So fuck that. Have your fun now, pay for it later. Look at how we kicking it now."
I got up to get another beer. "Yeah, we freeloading off some old rich fucks. No, actually, we are stealing from them. This ain't our place, this ain't our beer."
Sean smiled. "And now I'm going to grill some 'These Ain't Ours' ribs."
Fucking Sean. That was all bullshit.
Tellesco toweled off and Bryan appeared with some bottles of wine. He whistled me over. "Check it out man, they got a cellar carved out of the hard pan, hidden. It's fucking full of all this wine!"
Bryan giggled and quivered like a Springer Spaniel. He was in heaven.
"Looks like we gonna have us a time!" I patted him on his back. Might as well make his farewell party a good one, poor fucker.
He held arms full of both white and reds. "Chill the whites, let the reds breathe?"
I had no idea what in the hell he was talking about. "Uh, let's take a taste of this one here." I pulled it from his arms. "Chardonnay? Sounds like a sweater. How about this one?" I pulled a red from his armload as the others clinked. "Peanut Knower. That's pretty funny. Let's check that shit out."
And so we did.
I wanted to know how the hell he had found the hidden cellar. What was he looking for anyway?
Come here tomorrow to enjoy this party, if you like.
It gets better, and it gets worse.
Much, much worse.
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