I have this buddy who picks up on any and all athletic feats with the same ease Mozart took to the piano. He can just play, to quote Good Will Hunting.
As a freshman playing division 1AA football, Rick returned a fumble for a touchdown in what has been described to me as, "the most athletic thing I've ever seen," by friend of mine not usually given to hyperbole.
Sophomore year, in the quad while walking back to the dorms from the dining hall, a friend taunted from a third floor window, pressing his nose up against the screen. From about seventy yards away, Rick hit the screen with a snow ball, his target barely backing off the window screen in time.
Junior year, from the railing of the second floor deck of his house off campus, before a crowd of his drunken cheering peers, he jumped about fifteen feet out off of the deck into a garbage can on the lawn....BARE FOOT! Unfortunately there were broken liquor bottles at the bottom of the garbage can. This didn't stop him the following day, in a pickup football game, from outrunning me on a post route for a long touchdown with a gaping infection sweltering on his right foot inside his shoe.
Sullivan's Tap, across the street from the TD Banknorth Garden, has this game. For a dollar, you get one punch at a punching bag. In return you get a score. I hadn't been beaten. I felt like this game was my game. Saturday night, as I entered the bar with about 20 of Boston's best and brightest, I was eager to showcase my dominance over a larger crowd. I hadn't even given thought of the likelihood Rick would beat me. He's roughly my size, maybe a little smaller. I was more concerned with the guys that accompanied us who were over well over 2 bills.
His first punch set the High Score higher than I had ever seen it before. I spent about $20 trying to at least come close. Neither me nor anyone else with us was able to score within 80 points. It wasn't even a contest. Eventually, other people spilled into the bar. They too wanted to take their shots at the machine and Rick J. They too, were wasting their money (especially when he began hustling and taking their money). They, like the big boys with us, were also amazed they couldn't even compete with a dude half their size.
I shouldn't have been surprised
2 comments:
It all seems so obvious. I guess because you were so busy writing that you didn't see the connection that was unintentionally made. A Boston Police chopper? Hardly. Try CIA. When Uncle Sam Got wind of Rick J's super human powers it was reported to the president, who was forced into deadly position. Either he try and contain Rick J and brainwash him (which we all know he is impervious to) or he eliminate him outright. It was obvious that such a power shouldn't be allowed to exist unabided, and since it was determined that Rick was uncontrollable they sent in the SWAT team to eliminate him. The floodlight came pouring through his window and the SWAT team saw Rick laying under the covers, his girlfriend's arm draped over his body. Within a fraction of a second the mound that was laying next to Rick's girlfriend vanished, her arm dropped to the matress. It was as if the lump his body created under the sheets was a balloon that popped. When the survailance footage was played back later on there were only three frames where they could actually see Rick pouncing like a lightning bolt from the sheets and escaping. Within those three frames, Rick had showered, shaved and packed a bag. He's probably halfway to Tibet, for all they know. God speed Johnson... God speed.
rick pegged me with a crab apple from 100 yards away...that's all i have to say.
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