It's 1990. Roman and Erik have shipped off to cross the equator, leaving Data, Littleguy and Mark to keep the home fires burning. I'm still a year or more from Otter maturity — I still have a mullet, and I still spend my Friday nights alone.

But I've begun to make contact. At the most recent GMHS bomb threat (an incident that cleared the entire school into the stadium bleachers at least twice a year), I respond correctly to LG and Data's shouts of "albatross!" (It's a Monty Python bit, but you knew that.) And I occasionally sneak out of my Journalism class into the Newspaper room to eavesdrop on the creative hilarity that occurs there regularly. I dare not participate, as I am incapable of doing so without making a complete ass of myself... but I can watch. And I do.

So it's pretty obvious that I'm a wannabe. Plus (and this is a very important plus), my parents own a successful bar in the county. Any keen mind configured for manipulation and self-interest (in other words, an Otter mind) that observes this combination should see the obvious: free liquor!

So I became the Liquor God. Rather than hang outside liquor stores and propositioning strangers of legal age, they now had a direct line to the intoxicating spirits that fuelled any great Otter gathering. And they knew exactly how to make me cooperate, too — like the time they sent Lisa Peretto and Venusia Davis to my house to pick up the loot. Bear in mind, I'm 15 at the time — and a very young 15. I've never even held hands with a girl, much less anything else. Now, suddenly, there were two gorgrous blondes, both of which had appeared in a fantasy or six of mine, in my house. And I had something they wanted. They hugged me when I gave it to them! I felt their bodies pressed against mine (albeit briefly and in a completely socially acceptable manner), smelled their hair... hey, I was 15. That kept me going for weeks.

I found out later that Lisa was rushed to the hospital that night (the night of the infamous "cigars" cast party Mark spoke of earlier) for alcohol poisoning. I believe they had to pump her stomach, due to the .20 BAC level that I had helped her achieve.

But none of that mattered. I was the Liquor God. My teen angst bullshit may have had a body count, but I had finally discovered the road to popularity! Wasn't high school grand?
 


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