Steezus Christ

We were graced by the presence of Steezus Christ himself. His aura radiated from the being that is him. His quad XL Lakers jersey hung below an unzipped green double XL jacket. His purple board pants were steezically placed with the waist hanging around his knees. His yellow Nike high tops allowed him to walk on water. Crystallized, of course. He raises his hand as if to address his people. Then he speaks.

“I got new skis.” His third pair in about a year.

“Conor, I thought you didn't have any money.” Dan had addressed Steezus by his real name. I looked over at Aaron, Aaron looked at Dan. Dan awaited the response.

“They're steezy, bro.” 'Steeze' is used to describe style by skiers and snowboarders.

“Two weeks ago you wanted to sell me your old skis 'cause you didn't have any money.” Dan said, slightly annoyed.

“I know, I just wanted new ones.” His head was cocked to one side, his mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes stared vacantly at the wall, slightly crossed. He almost looks like he's thinking. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was.

“Because that job of yours is working well, huh?” Check and mate. Conor looked hurt, and Dan looked triumphant. I laughed, but tried to hide it behind my hand. Aaron just openly laughed. Of course, Conor didn't have a job. He's been a manager at some retail store, a personal trainer, a professional photographer, and held various other positions, including being a chronic liar and a part time thief.

“Shut up.” Conor sounded timid, but left it at that. He got up from his seat at Aaron's computer and went to play with the pair of six week old kittens that had been romping around the room. Dan just shrugged his shoulders and let it go.

After tiring out the kittens, Conor looked up at us from his seat on the hardwood floor and told us he'd placed fifth at a slopestyle competition the week before.

“Out of how many people, six?” Dan smartly remarked. He's skilled in that type of response. Again, Conor didn't say anything. He just went back to the sleeping kittens, who had curled up with each other next to their food dish. Cute little things, really. One was mostly black with little patches of white on each foot. The other one was white, black, and tan; colored with a camouflage pattern. They both had very ruffled fur, and were both very playful. They're named Rice and Fisk, after a pair of Red Sox legends.

Conor got back up off the floor and went back to Aaron's computer, where he brought up some stupid skiing video blog. Five minutes into it, Aaron looked over at me, widening his eyes and sighing. Dan enjoyed it, though. I would have enjoyed it too, if it had been different than every other skiing video ever made. Oh, it would've been better still if it just wouldn't have been so stupid.

I really don't like to watch skiing videos constantly. Apparently it's a requirement to become a good skier. You also need to know who all the professional skiers are, know what kind of tricks they do, and what they're best at. I guess I'm not a good skier.

The plan was to head to Crotched Mountain to do some skiing that night. That's just what we did. We showed up at the mountain at around eight that evening and took a couple of runs together. Shortly after those runs, Conor took off to ski with his brethren. Steezelets, we call them. They all have the quad XL jerseys, the low pants, and the idea that what they're wearing actually looks good. It doesn't. These kids base what college they go to by how many handrails they see when they visit. Remember to pray for them, as they will need it. Steezus Christ and brethren above, amen.