Monday, February 7, 2011

jour cinq: wayne

I would like to take a minute today and talk about my friend "Wayne."
Wayne, like the picture to your left is in many cases, a socially immature puffin. Oftentimes, Wayne finds it necessary, even at certain points, mandatory, to impress others all the time. Whether it be by way of bringing a funny mug to work, shooting a gun at people's houses, or even kissing a random person's baby, Wayne is constantly on the prowl. In fact, one time he actually offered to walk my dog for a week after he drunkenly hit on my sister at prom. I declined.

I understand Wayne. His seemingly endless need for attention is something I dealt with a long time ago, in 6th grade. Those who have known both Wayne and myself for a long enough time might say I was actually much worse about it than my cowboy compadre, but that is totally false. I have known Wayne since 4th grade when I moved to Mission, Texas from my home in San Antonio. Wayne was the first person I talked to at school that year, and we have pretty much great friends since. He is way bigger of an asshole than me.

That being said, one might ask why I would write such caustic words about a friend. Well, simply put, Wayne has Asperger's. Pronounced Ass-burgers.

This isn't a recent development, however, as I first found out he had Asperger's junior year of high school. I was at his house when I overheard his mom Janet talking on the phone with their relatives about one of Wayne's outbursts at school. If my memory serves correct, that week Wayne had actually flushed a couple of dead toads down a toilet in the girls locker room. I had actually ratted him out about it to the lady-janitor, Horacia, who forced Wayne to make a deal with her; Wayne would have to provide her with one dead toad for the rest of the school year lest she reveal to the principal who flooded the girl's locker room bathroom.(Apparently frog's legs are a delicacy for old Mexican women, enough so that they would resort to blackmailing high school students to acquire some). Wayne, always a defiant little prick, called her bluff and instead stuck a dead toad inside the exhaust pipe of her 77' Malibu.

But I digress. When I revealed to Wayne that I was aware of his handicap later that week, he denied it with adamant ferocity. In fact, he was so convincing, I actually believed that his parents had kept him in the dark about it his entire life. To this day, I don't why Janet and Mark Stockton wouldn't want their kid stoned all day on Zoloft if that kid were Wayne, but that's beside the point.

The reason I am writing about my dear friend Wayne is because he texted me yesterday telling me he knew about his Asperger's since 2nd grade but refused taking his meds because he believed the doctors were just trying to dumb him down and silence his "creatively chaotic" mind. I didn't text him back.

About 6 hours ago driving up to San Marcos for some meetings, I received a call from our mutual friend Paul that Wayne had taken his life in his dorm room this morning. Paul was the one who found him.

I'll miss you brotha.
RIP Wayne Stockton

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