Ryan Kenny turns 30

“Merry Christmas Daddy” says the meager and impoverished little child draped in tatty old rags. “I brought it with my own money” he says proudly. He has been delivering newspapers on his bicycle at 5am for the past 3 months to save up enough money to buy Daddy a gift. His first gift ever.  “My Son, what a wonderful thing to do” as he unwraps it. “Ah, a soda stream machine. Isn’t that wonderful? Thank you so very much” Then, the child starts to sob. Daddy is not pleased. What kind of an arsehole returns a melted soda stream machine covered in beer mold? Hmm…oops.

Its matric rage time. The Three Musketeers heading off to Durban to teach those pubs a lesson. Okay, perhaps more like Ed, Edd and Eddy than the Musketeers but still. It is actually an uncanny resemblance: You have the egocentric schemer living high on dreams but low on cash: Ryan al-a Eddy. Then you have the brains of the operation, the knowledge craving bookworm that loves to chirp women when they are wrong: Brendan al-a Double D. Lastly, the handsome and charismatic guy. Always dressed well, great with the women and a praised by everyone in the cul-de-sac du Witbank. Douglas al-a Ed.

Okay, I might have got the last one a bit wrong but this is my story so boo-hoo.

I met Ryan in Grade 7. Well that’s when I met officially. I first, first met him in Grade 4 in Robert Caruthers School. He used to cycle to school like me so from time to time we would share the odd conversation walking from the main gate down to the bicycle shed. It wasn’t until Grade 5 however that I saw his true douchbaggery shine through. I was friends with a guy named Sean. Bit of an odd character I must admit, probably due to his parents being idiots, but we struck up a pretty solid friendship. We would often share the same cycle route from home to school and at the age of 11 that is about as much depth that is required to be called “best friend”. Anyway, one day Sean didn’t pitch up for our route home. It was his birthday and I have this big Happy Birthday banner printed out and brought him a cake and all sorts. I was waiting for him to get home so I could surprise him and cheer up his depressed little soul.

He pitched up 3 hours late. His front tyre was full of steel tacks. Someone at school punctured his tyre. That someone was Ryan. What a douche. So I never really spoke to Ryan much from then. I recall Sean punching me in the face sometime in Grade 6 for some reason (no idea why) and that was the last time him and I spoke. I became mates with Grant after that. He had a Sega; I had a Sega so it makes sense.

So anyway, I left Robert Caruthers and went to St Thomas Aquinas. Fate would have it that I was kept back a year (another story for another time) and I ended up in the same class as this Ryan guy. This time, however, he was super friendly to me. Weird. Turns out my elder sister threatened to beat the poo out of him unless he was nice to me. I have awesome sisters.

The rest is history. Ryan and I got along like mad ever since. Even through the various phases of when he wanted to be in the skater crowd and when I wanted to become some fable creature from StarCraft we still managed a strong friendship. I would steal his lunch and he would hide my school bag as a weird way of saying “Howzit, still here buddy. Have a good day”.

I am not going to get all sappy and kak but I love the dude you know? Ryan has been my best friend for more than half of my entire life. He was there for my first boozer, my first hubbly and even took the liberty of dating my first crush. Perhaps in a sort of coaching fashion: “See now Douglas this is how you woo Nicole”. We fought many a fight, raced many a race, drank many a drink and partied many a party. 

Through all the firsts that he was accomplice to I also get the feeling that he will be there for the last of things as well. I can already picture him and I, all buggered and wrinkled, parking off in a mental home somewhere.

Probably behind locked doors in the auditorium with the medical staff frantically trying to break down the doors flinging syringes full of antipsychotics all over the show while we set fire to the bingo boards. Ryan will be holding the lighter for sure.

Oh bugger. I completely wondered off track there from my original story behind the melted soda stream machine. That will have to be another story for another time.