Do you want to look at my butthole?
Do you want to look at my butthole?
Those are the last words I can remember saying to Brandon Waite. Brandon died last week on Interstate 15 after weaving through traffic, clipping the back of a semi, and crashing into a tree. He was 22.
It has probably been a year since I had last seen Brandon, and at least two years since I uttered those words. I know I have since said other things to him, but those are the last words I can definitely recall. In fact, they are the only words I can recall.
Brandon worked as a technician in the Orem CompUSA where I slaved away at the front end. He was overweight, white as a chicken egg, and smirked as he tried to crack insults and jabs in my direction. I can't remember what he said that night, but my response was simply to ask him if he wanted to take a peek at my anus. Ray, who was witnessing the interaction, thought it was pretty funny. Brandon did too, though he tried to act annoyed.
Of all the things to remember saying to a person. I remembered that brief comeback.
Brandon was laid to rest last Saturday. I didn't attend his funeral. I hate funerals. When someone dies in their old age, it's a celebration of their long and fulfilling life. When someone dies in their youth, you can't help but feel sadness for the potential left unrealized.
Rest in peace Brandon. You will be missed.
Do you want to look at my butthole?
ReplyDelete