I always wanted to hang out with him. He used to always chill with my cousins, even my kid sister, but not me. He would always make fun of me, and they would sit right along with him. He was always a douche bag, real asshole kinda guy. But that’s what made him Cool, and gave him his name. It’s like the worse he would make others and himself, the more he was loved for it.

It’s hard to have sympathy for the devil, much less him. So, I gave up trying hang out with him and concentrated on primping the flowers from the seeds I planted in high school. However, as I cut away the dead ones, and cared for the others, I saw his shadow over me.

I ignored him, implying that he’s not the type of person I need around me. A couple of years passed, and I was -going to easy’s funeral (we were two peas in a pod until he died, just got over it I supposed), I found solace in chilling with him. We became best friends, after all. “You’ve always been cool with me,” he said, as I walked to easy’s casket. “Now bury him.”