Zero-Sum

“This place stinks, let’s get out of here, let’s paint the town and have some fun.” “Give me a sec, let me grab my books,” I would reply and hurriedly we would run. Cutting classes in our suburban school, we'd dash off to the nearest watering hole, then drink like tomorrow would never come, stumbling out at midnight when we were done. Wasting summer days on drinks and songs, flirting with pretty waitresses all night long; rather predictable but that was our routine, we would get our fill, it was our usual scene. Bosom buddies and so it seemed but that was then. Built our careers to meet both our family’s needs till the pressure to succeed was a knot in your head. Though I’d often prod you to take things in stride, your impatience was just impossible to hide. When I made it quite big and became wealthy you fumed ‘The damn bastard is just plain lucky.’ When I built a mansion and acquired properties, you felt left out and thought I was greedy. You looked at your failures vis-a-vis my success, wondering why you didn’t have more but less. Yours was a friendship built on shifting sands, easily dismissed by a mere wave of your hand. In our carefree days on board the same boat, you know, it did not take much effort to float. Yet years later when I started to get ahead ’twas when Mr. Hyde reared his ugly head. So, old buddy, here is a toast and a cheer for all the years we spent drinking our beer. No need to feel sentimental counting the cost nor feel regrets for what we may have lost. For how could we lose what wasn’t there at all, it was just make-believe, that’s all.