I'm not sure how to open this post.
So I'll just go at it:
Lost some folks in April.
The loss of this particular individual touched me deeper than I thought it would, perhaps because of the timing- please read.
Yours is the very first name in my phone contact list. I only ever called you when you were super late to work...which was often enough that I would bother to save your number.
You always greeted me with one of two things- "Hey Creepy!" or "Hey Gorgeous!"- equally hilarious and fitting. Of course, this is how you greeted most people. Still, it had its charms.
I never spent any time with you outside of work. I wouldn't say we were friends, though we got along well enough. You knew every word to every song ever written, and who sung it, what year, who the hell the drummer was, how many covers were made, and by which singers...you knew so much goddamn music trivia. Why you were never a radio station DJ is beyond me. I once had to go home and look up "Eiffel Tower" because I got trapped in the walk-in with you and Tron for, like, ten seconds one day. I also remember the time a bottle of grenadine flew off the shelf at you and smashed on the floor. We talked about ghosts a lot, which is a strange thing to reflect on now, but then again...it really isn't.
I'm not going to sit here and blather on about all the good things you did and whatever, because, like I said...I never really knew your life. I only knew you- the flail scene, the joker, the risk taker, the hungover, the really pissed off, the kind of pissed off, the reckless, loving living a little too much, the clean, the dirty...the Landry. I do choose to remember you fondly, however, because...people like me need to have the influence of people like you.
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