Boyce called me at 4:33 in the morning last night. He sounded like Ernie laughing and every time he tried to speak he just started laughing again. He finally had the composure to ask how many times I was punched in junior high and high school. I said, "You know good and well. Eleven times. You were the first." And then he burst into laughter again. Then, after he told me to "Wait...wait...wait...wait..." he finally asked me the name of the kid who punched me in the stomach in the bathroom. I told him, "Jeremiah Rawlson," and Boyce laughed like Ernie, and told me to tell him the story again.
Jeremiah Rawlson would go to the school bathroom in order to have a bowel movement nearly every single day. He did this, however, in between classes when the hallways were filled, like some kind of sociopath, in one of the busiest bathrooms in the school. Once, he walked out of the stall and I told him, "You know, what you're doing is one of the most private things a person does. Don't you even want to do it when people are in class?" He just sneered and ignored me. Then, one day he walked out of the stall while I was washing my hands, and I said, "Given the choice, Jeremiah, even a dog wants privacy." Jeremiah punched me in the stomach. I half fell into the trash can, but eventually rolled under the sink to catch my breath.
Boyce laughed through the whole story, and when I finished he told me I was the best and then hung up the phone. It was 4:36.
