Black Beauty

I have a friend.  He asked me to write about him.  He requested it be given the above title. This is his story:

If Rob was a dragon...basically, Mushu with dreds...

Black Beauty was born Robert, in 1980-something. I call him Mushu. And he calls me Moo Shoo. He's not very original with nicknames. But then sometimes he calls me Princess or Lady, and I'm okay with that. He and I first met when we worked together at a boarding school in Perth.  We hit it off and have been friends ever since. I don't exactly remember the first time we met.  In some ways it feels like he's always been a part of my life - our friendship has no clear beginning or end - it just is. Sometimes months will go by when we don't see each other or talk much, but when we see each other again it's like no time has passed.

Rob has one of the biggest hearts of all the people I know. He is kooky, and prone to bizarre behaviour in public.  He loves to scandalise people.  I've been tackle-hugged to the ground, begged for head scratches and tummy rubs, and treated to tantrums worthy of a three-year-olds whilst onlookers look on with expressions ranging from bemusement to judgement.  Life is never dull with him.

He has a pug named Cupid. Cupid both loves and hates the beach, and he definitely loves bacon. Cupid, and his convertible, are the two loves of Rob's life. One time Rob buried Cupid at the beach.  One time we buried Rob at the beach.

Rob spent six months in Miami on exchange for university.  I missed him while he was gone, but I couldn't think of a more suitable environment for him. I think at least fifty percent of my time with him has been spent at or near the beach, and there was a time when you wouldn't see him without some kind of bling; a D&G watch, or a gold-accented Ed Hardy dragon jacket, and his jeans cost more than my first car.  

Rob is not like my other friends.  But that is part of his appeal. 

One time, we went to pick up a sun roof for his dad's boat.  We did this in his two-seater convertible, and of course it wouldn't fit in the boot.  So we did the return trip with it in my lap, wedged under my chin, while Rob teased me for looking like a Teletubby.

One time, he decided it would be funny to textbomb my phone, and sent over a thousand messages in a row of just emoticons.  It took several hours for my phone to work through the queue. I even caught him sending them while I was driving us to go get food that night.

One time we played Connect 4 by text. But he cheated.

One time we played Chess over frozen yoghurts.  It was the most amateur game of Chess ever played, and he was the ultimate victor when we finally ran out of pieces to capture.  I'd like to say I let him win, but I didn't.

It blows his mind that my chiropractor has the same name as him, and tries to steal his business card from my desk when he comes over.

He's lots of fun to hang out with. But be warned, he bites. Randomly, and without warning or just cause.

Mushu is a big, black Fijian dude, and one of the most hilarious sights is him playing my Dance Central game on the Xbox 360 Kinnect.  He is one of the whitest black men I know when it comes to dancing. But I can't talk - I'm sure seeing me to do the 'Superman' is quite hilarious too.

At an interview, he described how he caught all 151 Pokemon, as an example of his dedication and commitment. He got the promotion.

Rob enjoys really bad puns, and loves to test me by sending me messages entirely in emoticons and images to see if I can break the code. When he wants me to ring him, he sends me a picture of a ring.

I always know exactly where I stand with Rob, and if he's thinking of me, he'll text me to tell me. I like that. I know I can relax around him, because he never lies to me and he accepts me for who I am.  He lets me cry when I'm upset, even though it makes him uncomfortable, and he doesn't even run away. Though he may sometimes do the "there there" pat on the shoulder.  He doesn't judge me for my insecurities, but instead reassures me that I'm all right in his book.

He has a joie de vivre that is infectious, and a love of sushi and Grill'd that knows no boundaries. He is five years old, and he is fifty years old, especially when it comes to his sense of humour. He is very brave, since he has let me publish this without seeing what I wrote. He is a legend in his own lunchbox, and the coffee in my clouds.

He is the Buzz Lightyear to my Calamity Jane (let's face it; I'm no Woody), always showing me that you really can go to infinity and beyond.

Like a boss.