Sophomore Daze
Yep, I had this college thing down. Freshman year there had been the usual bouts of homesickness and the constant confusion of not knowing where the hell I was going. But I was a sophomore now, baby, and things were going my way. I knew where my classes were, I was rooming with my buddy Greg Gaughan and most of my friends had returned to the same dorm floor. There was Jeff and Kyle, Aaron, Jake and Mike. Even Rob Seaver had come back.
I never spent a whole lot of time with Rob, but he seemed nice enough. He was going into his senior year, and just didn’t have time for us back when we were puny freshmen. I didn’t consider him a ‘friend’ so much as an ‘acquaintance.’ But a close acquaintance. So I wasn’t overly surprised when he invited me over to his room one day early in the first semester.
“Good to be back, huh?” he asked.
“I’m really enjoyin’ it, yeah. Seems so much easier than last year,” I said.
“Wish I could enjoy it,” he groaned. “All high-level classes in my majors this year. Gonna be rough!”
Oh, shit, I thought, this is where I’m supposed to know what the hell his double major was. Ummm...I think its something like: “Psych and Microbiology, right?”
I was totally guessing.
“Yup, " he smiled. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”
Phew! Good guess.
We made small talk like that for a while. Nothing big, just chit-chat. After a bit, I was actually looking for my opening to leave without pissing him off. That’s when he started looking around as if checking to see we weren’t watched. He motioned for me to keep quiet and made an exagerrated show of quietly closing the door to his room. “Want a beer?” he whispered with a conspiritorial grin.
Now, like I said, Rob and I weren’t the closest of friends. But alcohol and me go waaaaay back, and I never miss an opportunity to get re-acquainted!
I made a show of mock-shock. “But—beer is FORBIDDEN in the dorm!” I whispered, laughing.
“What’s life without a little risk?” he asked, winking.
He quietly opened two beers he had hidden under his bed, poured them into glasses for us and hid the empties under his desk.
I must say, the conversation went much more smoothly with a little lubrication. I might just have to spend more time with Rob, I thought, even though his beer sucked. Had a real funny aftertaste that...
...walking down the hall to the bathroom. I had to piss like a racehorse. My dick was kinda sore, too. I bellied-up to the urinal, and...Ummmm—Where the hell was my underwear? That was pretty fuckin’ weird. I know I put some on this...Ah well, whatever. Nothing I need to worry about. Everything’s the way it should be.
I went back to my room, put on a fresh pair of underwear, and forgot all about it. In fact, I forgot completely about it.
The next day, I awoke and went down to the bathroom to get ready for class. I showered and brushed my teeth and got all lathered up for my shave. It was a morning ritual I had stuck to since I started shaving back in 9th grade. I loved the feeling of my morning shower and shave—made me feel like I was in control of things. I had always been a little obsessive about my shave: had to be just right. I had gone a few days without shaving my senior year of high school when I went on a camping trip with my buddies. Almost drove me nuts! I felt all shaggy and—I don’t know—I guess ‘unkempt’ is the word I’m looking for.
Just as I was ready to start in, Rob came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around him. He smiled at me in a kind of strange way, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I just gave him a non-committal “’mornin,” along with a nod.
Rob didn’t answer, just gave a quick look around back to the showers and under the stalls, like he was looking for someone. He didn’t find anyone. Then he just sorta stood there, staring, with this evil-looking grin on his face.
“Well,” I said, desperate for anything to break the awkward silence, “nice, uhh, talking to you.”
Rob just smiled and said...
...picked up the razor to start my shave. But I stopped. I was staring at my reflection in the mirror. The shaving cream was on my face, mimicking the pattern of my hair growth. I was intrigued by the way it looked. Hell, I was FASCINATED by the way it looked. I could barely tear my eyes away, but I looked at the razor in my hand. I practically threw it down into the sink! I grabbed my towel and roughly wiped all the lather from my face.
Rob was at the sink next to me. I couldn’t remember having seen him come in, but there he was. He looked at me and asked “Not gonna shave?”
“No”, I said with disbelief in my voice at what I was hearing it say. “I really, really, REALLY want to grow a beard.”
“Hmmm...Well, good luck with that,” Rob said. Then he chuckled softly, like he was enjoying a joke that only he got.
I turned to go. But it seemed I was moving in slow motion. There was something not right here. Something on the tip of my tongue that I just couldn’t spit out. Something dancing in my peripheral vision that I just couldn’t focus in on. I felt like I was trying hard to remember something. Something like...
“Have a good day at class!” Rob called airily after me, breaking my train of thought.
“Yeah,” I said absently, still puzzled. “Yeah, you too.”
I was miserable.
My beard was starting to grow in, and growing in nicely, but it itched like CRAZY! I would be sitting in class, barely able to concentrate because of the way it tickled and the way it made me so self-conscious. Several times, I grabbed my razor and shaving cream in disgust and headed to the bathroom to be rid of it. But every time I tried, I would find myself almost paralyzed into inaction at the last second. It was like being a kid on the edge of the highest high-dive, just physically unable to take that last step off into space. I couldn’t make myself move. Eventually, I just gave up trying and accepted it.
I started spending alot more time with Rob as the weeks went by. He seemed so easy to talk to. I really enjoyed spending time with him, even though we had almost nothing in common. I hated the things he liked, and he showed no interest in things I liked. Despite this, we had taken to getting together to shoot the shit and hang out. We would usually end up doing the things he wanted to do, but I was ok with that. The time just flew by when I was with him.
Literally.
Great big chunks of time would go by when I couldn’t remember exactly what it was we had done. I felt I had had a good time. But that was ALL I knew. It was a little—disconcerting. Even more troublesome were the unusual little aches and pains that had started cropping up: sore muscles in my jaw, cramps in my legs and like a rug burn or something on my knees.
One afternoon, when we both had a break in our schedules, we were sitting in Rob’s dorm room watching tv. Rob had tuned into one of those old syndicated shows they put on to take up time when no one is actually watching. I think it was “My Three Sons.” That guy Fred McMurray was dispensing his usual fatherly advice while sitting in his easy chair, tie on tight and pipe in hand. I just scratched my face for the thousandth time today and thought how corny this crap was. But, Rob liked it. So, we watched.
“You should smoke a pipe, " Rob said, completely out of the blue.
I think I said something intellectual like “Huh?”
“Don’t you think it looks cool? Kinda sophisticated? I think it would really suit you.”
“If you think it looks so cool, why don’t YOU smoke a pipe? I don’t think I need to take up a hobby that would make me a social outcast, make my breath smell AND shorten my life.” I laughed when I said it, but I couldn’t hide that I was a little weirded-out by this conversation. I’m afraid it came out a little harsher than I intended it.
Rob just smiled and said...
...beautiful day to go for a walk. The main street of town was busy, and I was just enjoying being out and about. Which was strange, ‘cause I was just at...Nah, not important where I had been, just wanted to enjoy where I was now.
As I walked, I came to a Tobacconist’s shop. Without even thinking or hesitating in the slightest, I walked in.
The place was dark and cool after being outside, but still airy and inviting. I looked around, wondering breifly what I was gonna do next.
There was a fifty-something man behind the counter, smoking a large pipe. “Can I help you?” he asked, smiling.
Yeah, I thought, you could tell me what the fuck I’m doing here.
But out loud I said “I’d think I’d like to take up pipe-smoking.”
Huh!?
Where did that come from? That couldn’t be right, could it?
No, it was right, all right. I’ve ALWAYS wanted to smoke a pipe. In fact, now that I thought about it, there was nothing in the world I wanted to do more than start smoking a pipe. Absolutely nothing in the world.
I spent about an hour as the guy explained to me the finer points of pipes and tobacco. I picked out a nice pipe and a blend to go with it, and he showed me how to pack it, light it and keep it going. I lit up right then and there.
The smoke curled about my face. Seductive. Enticing. It felt like I was strangely complete, suddenly. I felt smarter, more sophisticated...cooler. And I was addicted. I’m not sure how, but as I stood there puffing I knew, with no doubt in my mind, that I was instantly, completely and irrevocably addicted. There was no going back, even if I had wanted to. Yep, from this day forward, I was gonna be an avid, dedicated, die-hard pipe smoker.
I bought a second pipe, a lighter and a tobacco pouch before I left.
Weird, huh?
I took to the habit of smoking completely and without question. At first, I had endless troubles. I had trouble packing it right, I couldn’t get it lit (especially in the wind!) and I couldn’t KEEP it lit. But for some reason, it never occured to me to stop. No matter how much trouble I had, I just kept barreling ahead. I was obsessed.
Because of that, I quickly went from one or two bowls a day to three or four, then six or eight. My pipe quickly became as much a part of my face as my nose. I couldn’t even remember what it was like to be a non-smoker anymore.
And I was spending more and more time with Rob.
My room mate, Greg, noticed a change.
Greg was a health-nut. He worked out religiously, ate right and got plenty of sleep. Most people thought he was a pain-in-the-ass because he was so regimented, but we had always just clicked. Part of that was because I was a lot like him. Well, at least, I used to be. But, he was still my best friend.
And he was worried about me.
“Dude, at first I was just annoyed at your smoking in the room and stuff, but ...I don’t know man, the beard and everything. It just seems like you’ve given up on taking care of yourself. You’ve really changed,” he said. “And not for the better.”
I felt suddenly very defensive. Just why, I couldn’t say, but I reacted with alot of hostility. “Who are you to decide what’s ‘for the better’ for me?” I shot back. The conversation rapidly degenerated from there. Suffice to say, we parted ways before either of us said something we’d regret. He went to his desk to sulk. I went to Rob’s room. I can’t really say why, I just felt like I needed to talk to him.
I spilled the whole story about the argument to Rob. I confided to him that I felt on some level that Greg was right about me changing. I just couldn’t put a finger on it. I was starting to get worried. But it just bothered me when someone tells me what to do. “I hate it when people tell me what to do!”
Rob just smiled and said...
...carefully folded the clothes as they came out of the dryer. The laundry room in the basement was empty except for me, so I was enjoying a pipe while I...but these weren’t my clothes? They looked like—Rob’s? Why would I be doing...No, it was right. Everything was as it should be. Nothing to wory about.
When the last load was dry and folded, I carried the basket full of Rob’s clothes back up and placed them neatly in his drawers. Then went back to my room.
Rob was sitting in a chair next to Greg, who was sitting on his bed. Greg looked kinda out of it, like glazed-over and blank.
“What’s going on?” I said. I thought I should be alarmed, but everything seemed like it was as it should be, somehow.
Rob smiled. “Let’s just say, Greg isn’t going to hassle you about your smoking anymore.” he held up a half-empty can of soda, and jiggled it for effect. “A little compound we’ve been working on in the lab I intern at.” His smile widened even more. Made him look a little creepy.
“Is he—OK?” I asked. I walked over and waved my hand in front of Greg’s face. He didn’t react.
“He’s fine. Just a little more—cooperative.” Rob said.
I tried to wrap my mind around this. “So, he’s like, hypnotized, or something?”
“Kind of, " Rob said. “the chemical sot of numbs the section of the brain that filters information and inhibits impulses. It has the end result of making the person unable to differentiate between their own thoughts and something that someone tells them.”
“Uh-huh.” I said. I wasn’t sure how to react.
Rob was warming to the subject, now. “If you combine that with a few simple hypnosis techniques, you can set up a super-post-hypnotic suggestion. Even set up a trigger that puts them back in this suggestible state without a second dose of the drug. It’s perfect, and very easy.”
“And—the lab guys just let you use this stuff whenever you want?” I asked.
Rob grinned wickedly. “They do now.” He chuckled at that.
“Ummm—so, what are you gonna do to Greg?” He WAS my best friend, after all—I thought I should at least ask.
“I just gave him a suggestion that will turn him into an avid cigar smoker. Not only won’t he bother you about your smoking—He’ll join you!”
I couldn’t believe that I wasn’t more—I don’t know—concerned. I seemed to just be taking this in stride. “Why didn’t you just make him smoke a pipe like me?” Was all I could think to say. Just the mention of the word ‘pipe’ made me crave a smoke. I tamped and relit my pipe.
“Variety is the spice of life,” Rob said.
Not sure I knew what that meant, but now I was warming to the possibilities. I started giggling. “Can you make him bark like a dog or something?”
“Sure,” he said. “There’s LOTS of fun I could have.”
“Just promise me one thing, man,” I said, pulling up a chair to watch the show.
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you’ll never use that shit on me!” I said, laughing.
Rob just smiled and said.