Naniff and Urbiff

Naniff and Urbiff. When we were kids, those were the names my friend Ryan and I would call each other. I was Naniff, he was Urbiff. His official name was Ryan Krichbaum and I suppose you could have called him one of my best friends growing up. He was a blonde-haired, pale boy with thick framed glasses. He always wore polos with the crocodile on them (yes, it's a crocodile) and he loved to act goofy. We would make faces at each other and say things like "Jesus Peter" and then watch the 1985 TV adaptation of "Alice in Wonderland" because it was our favorite movie and we had a crush on the girl playing Alice. We went so far as to kiss the screen whenever she graced it. When we would call each other Naniff and Urbiff it wasn't something we would say in a normal speech pattern. Whenever we would say those names we would say them as if we had some sort of speech impediment and we had an IQ lower than 75. It truly was odd. My mother remembers it very vividly and still laughs about it to this day.

There was a time when my brothers forced Ryan and I to fight. It probably wasn't as forced as I'm making it out to be. We probably wanted to fight each other. It was some primitive urge to see who was stronger. My brothers encouraged it though. My older brother, Cliffy, was my coach, while my other older brother, Sean, coached Ryan. First round happened and we sorta wrestled a little. There was a little name calling, some kicking here some tugging there. Finally Cliffy made a bell sound to cue us. Round one was over. We'd go back for some more coaching then round two was on. Some more tugging, a punch to the gut. Ding Ding. Round two was over. I was sure I was winning. He was going down soon. Some more coaching. I noticed my brother Sean whispering in Ryan's ear as Cliffy started coaching me to grab him by the neck and pin him to the ground. Round three was on. That is when it happened. Before I knew it Ryan had kicked me so hard in the balls it knocked the wind out of me. I collapsed and cried in agony. My coach, being my jerk older brother, laughed despite the loss. Sean and Ryan gave each other a high five while they wallowed in their illegitimate victory. Fighting dirty. That little butthole. I mustered up the strength to stand up. Holding back the tears that were so desperately trying to burst from the seams. My stomach hurt. It was a pain no woman will ever understand. Why is it that my balls hurt along with my entire lower abdomen? I walked out of the room pouting in pain.

Later I was rummaging through the fridge looking for some salami to make a sandwich. I had managed to avoid Ryan all day when he finally came up to me and apologized. I looked at him and told him that he had cheated. He was a nice kid. Really nice. He was just doing what my brother told him to do. He wanted to impress but in the end realized that he hurt me and that I was Naniff and he was Urbiff. Without each other we were merely Ryan and Travis. Those names, in some odd 3rd grade mentality way, bonded us. Naniff and Urbiff. I accepted his apology and we walked into the living room together and watched Alice in Wonderland.

I haven't spoken to Ryan in several years. After those first few summers of knowing him we sort of grew apart and went our seperate ways. He ended up working at Kroger as a manager and I would see him in there stocking shelves and flick my head up a little as if saying hi without opening my mouth. He eventually joined the military and I never really saw him again. I suppose he's doing very well. I hope he is. Urbiff was a good friend.