I sat next to Art for six formative, elementary school years. That is just how the seating arrangement worked out every year.

Art told me the space shuttle exploded. I thought he was lying then.

Art told me there was no Santa.

Art knocked me into the snowy pavement one especially cold day, and Crystal took him out, face-first into the playground.

I think I left him closed in a jail cell once when we were playing in kindergarten. If you leave your pals in jail, and they tell you there's no Santa, there just may not be.