what it’s like to ride in a car with me
“Rob, I get to choose the music.”
“Okay.” Rob has learned to be agreeable when I demand control of the stereo[1].
“It’s Nahko and Medicine for the People. You have to love them.”
“I love them!”
“No sass!” I yell. “Hey, I have a present for you.” I hand him the bracelet I found outside Kim’s Kitchen.
“‘Liberty or Death’?”
“Because your kyiiiiiin is from New Hampshire. Hey Rob, say kin.”
“Kin.”
“No, say it like this: kyiiiiiiiin.”
“Kyiiiiiiiiiin.”
I cackle. “My kyiiiiiin is from New Hampshire too. Live free or die!”
“Live free or die!”
*
“HEY ROB wanna play a game I just made up?
“Sure.” Rob has learned to be agreeable when I propose games[2].
“It’s called ROBROBROBROBROB. Here’s how you play, are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“ROBROBROBROBROBROBROBROB! Now it’s your turn!”
“BROOKEBROO—”
“NO!”
“What?!”
“You’re doing it wrong! It’s called ROBROBROBROBROB not BROOKEBROOKEBROOKEBROOKE! Now do it again!”
“ROBROBROBROBROBROBROBROBROB!!”
“I see you’ve played ROBROBROBROBROB before! Hey Rob!”
“Yes?”
“Wanna play a game I just made up?”
“Is it BROOKEBROOKEBROOKEBROOKE?”
“HOW DID YOU KNOW?!”
“BROOKEBROOKEBROOKEBROOKE!”
I screamed and yelled, “ROB LOOK!”
Time slowed and our jaws dropped as we slid past a sign that said, I shit you not, Brook Road.
“ROB YOU MANIFESTED IT!”
And that, dear friends, is how Rob Campbell became the world champion of BROOKEBROOKEBROOKEBROOKE.
[1] Even though he has literally the best taste in music in the world.
[2] Even though they inevitably have no rules, no winners, and no point.