When
I was sophomore in high school my friend Eric and I had an agreement.
This agreement was based on a mutual and symbiotic arrangement that
provided us both with relative equitable value with respect to the
services we were in need of at the time. It wasn't contractual,
however, in retrospect that would've added a layer of texture to this
tale that would've made a good story a great one. It was fairly simple
really. Eric was scrawny and got his ass beat for running his mouth. Eric's rich parents happened to provide him with an unlimited supply of snack tickets. I too had run into this "ass beating" problem, except a bit earlier on in life and had judiciously picked up weight training as a preemptive maneuver to thwart such attacks in high school. So I was a pretty big dude. I was also as poor as poor could be, and never had the money to purchase the snack tickets that were necessary to acquire the most coveted commodity of my fourteenth year of existence...the ice cream taco.
So here we were, Eric and I, him with his rich kid snack tickets and me with my overly developed frame. I possessed the ability to provide a service that Eric needed, protection from the punks in eleventh grade. Conversely, he was able to distribute a product that I needed to acquire my beloved ice cream taco, snack tickets. It was a quid pro quo match made in pre-adolescent heaven.
Photo by: ms.Tea


