last of the redhot lovers
My friend Jeremy, with whom I don't keep in touch as well as I should, just e-mailed me. Can't think of him without thinking of this story:
Jeremy and I were suitemates on the seventh floor of one of the private dorms. I spent most of my time in his room because my roommate was a jerkoff. He and I sat there in his room one night, alone and with absolutely nothing to do. We decided to drive to the 7-11 a few miles away and find some porno magazines.
Three notable things happened at the 7-11. First, they didn't sell porno magazines at 7-11. This was the days before things like FHM and Maxim. The closest thing to what we were looking for was Easy Rider, and that really isn't ever an option.
Next, there were two girls in the store. I recall they were somewhat slutty looking. They may still have been in high school, but we were just barely eighteen and that didn't bother us too much. Actually, I am pretty sure it is just my older self bringing it up now and at the time it wasn't even a consideration.
Last, the cashier was an older guy with a weird physical deformity. His left eyeball had no iris. It was like the old Little Orphan Annie strips. Just a big, white eyeball.
We bought two sodas, I got a Dr. Pepper and I think Jeremy got a Pepsi. On the way out we noticed that the two girls were sitting on the curb, drinking and eating. We started walking over to them and as we did, Jeremy asked me, "did you notice that there was something wrong with that guy's lips?"
This is the sort of question he loves to ask. Today, this question is doubly funny because it is the exact sort of humor I still love and because it reminds me instantly of years of questions like this from Jeremy. At the time it was just singly funny, but he happened to ask it just as I was taking a sip of my Dr. Pepper. My response, made less than ten feet from the girls, was to drop to one knee and make a sound that came not from my mouth or throat, but from my lungs. It is possible I was exhaling a thin, brown mist as well.
When I gained control over myself, we got in his Mitsubishi Mirage and headed back to the dorm.
Jeremy and I were suitemates on the seventh floor of one of the private dorms. I spent most of my time in his room because my roommate was a jerkoff. He and I sat there in his room one night, alone and with absolutely nothing to do. We decided to drive to the 7-11 a few miles away and find some porno magazines.
Three notable things happened at the 7-11. First, they didn't sell porno magazines at 7-11. This was the days before things like FHM and Maxim. The closest thing to what we were looking for was Easy Rider, and that really isn't ever an option.
Next, there were two girls in the store. I recall they were somewhat slutty looking. They may still have been in high school, but we were just barely eighteen and that didn't bother us too much. Actually, I am pretty sure it is just my older self bringing it up now and at the time it wasn't even a consideration.
Last, the cashier was an older guy with a weird physical deformity. His left eyeball had no iris. It was like the old Little Orphan Annie strips. Just a big, white eyeball.
We bought two sodas, I got a Dr. Pepper and I think Jeremy got a Pepsi. On the way out we noticed that the two girls were sitting on the curb, drinking and eating. We started walking over to them and as we did, Jeremy asked me, "did you notice that there was something wrong with that guy's lips?"
This is the sort of question he loves to ask. Today, this question is doubly funny because it is the exact sort of humor I still love and because it reminds me instantly of years of questions like this from Jeremy. At the time it was just singly funny, but he happened to ask it just as I was taking a sip of my Dr. Pepper. My response, made less than ten feet from the girls, was to drop to one knee and make a sound that came not from my mouth or throat, but from my lungs. It is possible I was exhaling a thin, brown mist as well.
When I gained control over myself, we got in his Mitsubishi Mirage and headed back to the dorm.
posted by sparklestone at 11:03 PM
7 Comments:
Fortunately for you, some girls find your kind of behavior attractive. Fortunately for me, it wasn't either of those girls.
I'm also pretty happy that you weren't able to get any porn that day. Forgot to mention that above...
No girls. No porn. What about my happiness? I would say "eighteen year old boys can't live on Dr. Pepper alone," but I am living proof that they can.
Living proof that you can live on Dr Pepper alone? What about the nickel bag you smoked when you got back to the dorm?
You know how Rod Stewart says, "I wasn't getting enough of the things that keeps a young man alive" in the song Every Picture Tells a Story? Probably not, cause Rod Stewart sucks. But that is what I meant by the Dr. Pepper thing. Not that we had nickel bags. We bought 1/4 oz bags.
Baby, I am all about your happiness. Puh-leeez.
I think it's odd that you did not get one of those foot long 99 cent burritos from 7-11. You know the kind -they are too long to fit in the microwave and have to fold one of the ends over. When you take it out of the microwave the one end is lava hot and you burn your tonge and the other end is ice cold and suck on it while you drive home steering with your knees in you Mirage telling yourself that your not a loser.
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