Guys just can’t imagine a beautiful woman doing certain things. The buttercup. A vulgar prank teenaged boys think is hilarious as it gets. I just never saw it coming from the 9.5 out of ten “lady” I had recently begun dating. I had just returned from 2 years living in Japan, and was embracing the cognitive dissonance. Trying very hard to still believe what I did when I was 8 years old. Playing a bizarre game of truth and logic Twister. Contorting every which way to somehow, still make the obviously ill-fitting pieces, fit. I was also, half-heartedly, mainly for social reasons, attending a singles only congregation of the Church I was raised in.
My first day there, I extended my hand to the Bishop. He left me hanging, yanked his mitt away, and proceeded to give me the evil-eye any chance he got. He could not even fake it, and that’s saying something in Mormonism. 8 years earlier, on a cold winter night. Two feet of snow had fallen the night before, Hambo, my little bro and trickster partner in crime, decided to throw a few snowballs. It was “running with the wolves” night. 2�"3 weeknights weekly, our hardworking single Mother worked a second, third, or even fourth job. Per usual, we took full advantage of the lack of supervision. I wish I had at least one story that didn’t involve trickster hooliganism or narcotics. Just one inspirational, motivational true tale I could be proud of. Nope, mine have little to be proud of, but it’s what happened. Better or worse, stories are meant to be told.
No cars were out, so I was packing that snowball for nearly 20 minutes. It was approaching felonious “dangerous weapon” status. Hunkered down inside our hollowed-out hedgerow hooligan lair next to the road. Roscoes (cops) or angry motorists would be staring right at us, and never see us. Just then, a Suburban roared our way. Only after releasing the projectile, with maximum torque and velocity, did we see it. In unison: “oh shiiiit.”
The Bishop had been plowing the lot of his oral-surgery practice, and had the window rolled down partially to minimize fogging. That snowball shot the gap, and nailed the good Bishop right next to his left eye, before fragmenting into the eye. On the crunchy frozen-over road, he skidded to a stop. Screaming and cursing. Carpet F-bombery we didn’t know a bishop was capable of. It scared the s**t out of us. Dude had a homicidal tone in his screams. Hambo’s moon-boots kept falling off in the chase that followed. We ran for our very lives. Laughing so hard, it was like a dream where your legs won’t work. Hambo holding his moon-boots in either hand was now over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Squealing and giggling. The adrenaline made him feel no heavier than an empty pillow sack. All that remained was the confrontation. Of course, I’ve written a short story dedicated to this incident. “Fun and Games Until Your Bishop Loses an Eye.” After following the footprints back to our house, he was about to be convinced we were Lucifer’s own sons. The contrite and repentant confession he was expecting isn’t how it went down.
At the singles “ward” I just ignored the stink-eye and went about chasing the ladies. Day one, I ran into Annie. A longtime girlfriend of a close friend from the diner I worked at in HS. Davey. Friday was often FryDay and we thought it a fun time to ingest multiple hits of LSD and get our lysergic swerve on while preparing steaks and burgers. I have no idea what we were thinking. Back then, nothing was too small or insignificant as just cause for ingesting drugs.
Annie and Davey had broken up years earlier. My bro, Davey, had reacted very oddly. Coaxing anyone and everyone to pursue her, or accept her pursuit. He protested a little too much, and it came back to haunt him. You see, Annie liked dudes. A lot. Shockingly aggressive for a girl in small town Mormon Utah. And, she was 9.5 out of ten as far as looks and physical gifts. Blonde, blue eyes, and well, I’ll leave it there. So, the dudes liked Annie as well. Blondes aren’t my thing, but this was less-than serious. In Utah, like California, if you put a blonde wig on an old catchers mitt, dudes double-take, “so haaawt.” I’ve never understood it.
I never liked Annie. She tried to cover her insecurity and lack of intellect with belligerent, very unfunny attempts at putdowns. She didn’t know when to drop the shovel. Because of Davey’s weird campaign of overcompensation, Annie went from one friend to another. Nothing serious or even very physical. The first one, Davey challenged to a fight. We held kind of an intervention for Davey.
“Dude, which is it? You don’t care? You want people to date Annie? Or, your friends should run the other way. I mean, that’s the bro code. But you won’t shut up about wanting dudes to date Annie. Then you want to cave a dude’s face in?”
Davey tripled down. “Dude, go for it. All of you. I couldn’t care less. I want any or all of you to date Annie.”
I had to call him on his BS. “That’s why you nearly blew a gasket and two blood vessels in your forehead, wanting to murder John for one innocent, group date?” I’m probably explaining this as justification for breaking the bro code. Even if many years later.
When I ran into Annie at Church all those years later, she seemed like a different person. Matured. More comfortable in her own skin. Quiet, kinda shy. She could even carry a conversation beyond mere malicious and judgmental gossip. After Church, I was almost to my car.
“Hey, Matty. Gimme a ride home?” Annie asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Don’t you have a Missionary? You’re engaged to? Nah, I was one of those poor b******s 6 thousand miles away while his “committed” girlfriend was running around with whoever, weeks after I left. While still receiving the ride or die BS letters. Wouldn’t be right.”
“As usual, you flatter yourself Matty. I need a ride home, not a ride on your lap.” Wit, huh, she has changed.
“Alright Annie, I’ll give you a ride home on my lap.” She rolled her eyes. I knew where she lived. As i went to make the final left turn, she suddenly grabbed the wheel.
“Nah, I’m not ready to go home. Let’s go over there. The Elementary School parking lot.”
“Annie, why would we do that? Nope. Hell, no. Remember that guy you promised yourself to. Swore upon everything that’s holy you would remain loyal. Forced him to propose even before he went to Guatemala or wherever the hell. He wouldn’t dig you parking with such a fine young stallion like myself. Good things are bound to happen.”
“Haha, duuude. You are such an arrogant b*****d. You think I meant you were about to get lucky?”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. The ladies just can’t keep their hands off me.” I was half joking/ half cocky.
“Whatever. I’m still not going home.” Tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
“Do not mess with my vessel’s steering system Annie. I’m not parking with you. Grab the wheel again, I’ll throw you out the starboard hatch,” I had become obsessed with naval lingo.
“Yeah. I would use your balls as a speed-bag if you touched me.”
“Haha, a boxing speed-bag? Where did you learn to talk like that? In HS you couldn’t string together two coherent sentences consecutively. Unless they were petty and inappropriate.”
“Shutup. I forgot something. It’ll just take a minute.” She directed me to another Mormon Church nearby. Being Sunday, the lot was packed. She directed me to park far in the corner, underneath the shade of a large Ash tree.
She conned me. She never got out of the car. She made little attempt at small talk.
“So, Alice, what happened to her. Most beautiful girl in HS. Built. Why would she go out with a bad boy like you for 4 years, Matty. Sneaking in her window every other night.” Annie knew more about me than I realized.
“You’re keeping track huh? Yeah, well, I’m a committed dude. A one lady dude. I learned a hard lesson, I believed her. No matter what you ladies say, it’s not us you’re into. You ‘love.’ It’s not me she needed, or meshed so well with. It’s someone. Anyone. I wasn’t even gone two months and Alice had basically moved on. All the ‘ride or die’ and ‘eternally, it’s only you’ talk was BS. Sending me long pleading, promising audio tapes, well after she started serious with another dude. She was engaged to a pastel sweater wearing dweeb within weeks. You see, her Daddy approved of his millionaire family. Alice’s best friend Mindy said it’s like looking in the eyes of a goat. Nothing. Pastel boy. Zero personality or spine.”
“Well, I’m here to make you forget all that. I don’t have 34 D’s like Alice, but I guarantee you, I know what I’m doing. And no guilt-trip session after. Why promise you won’t do it again, when you know you will.” Woah, she wasn’t messing about. She seemed obsessed with other ladies physical features.
And with that, she broke her word. She leapt into my lap and we were off to the races. Second thoughts quickly crept in.
“Dude, there’s people everywhere. People are gonna see us.” My half-hearted resistance was shot down.
“I know. It’s great. It makes it so much hotter when you risk getting busted,” as she popped the top button on my Church dockers with one hand, and began unbuttoning her blouse with the other. Dexterity.
“Alright. That’s enough. I’m bro’s with Davey. I can’t do this to him.” I started the car and ignored her protests, driving her straight home. She threw a little tantrum then refused to speak. Slamming the door and stomping up the stairs and into her parents house.
“What the f**k just happened,” I said aloud. “I’m an idiot for refusing her.” I drove away. Thinking surely that was my only chance. I was wrong. The following Sunday she acted like nothing ever happened.
“Gimme a ride home?” She said with a sexy wink.
“Uhh, yeah. Yep.”
“I know.” She said, grabbing my a*s right in the middle of the Church foyer as we walked side by side. I was about to learn, there was something very off with Annie. We continued where we left off the previous Sunday. Wednesday, three days later, I picked Annie up for a dinner. Seconds after entering the car, she freaked my s**t out completely. It was about the last thing I was expecting.
She shifted oddly in her seat and reached behind her butt. Surely she didn’t have a back pocket in the tiny mini-skirt she was wearing. Before I knew what was happening, she butter-cupped me. She had farted in her hand, cupped it shut, then put it over my nose. Now, dudes can’t imagine a beautiful woman doing certain things. That was definitely one of them.
Butter-cupping is something both my brothers and bro’s have done to each other since Kindergarten. Right up there with t***y-twisters, nut-flicks, wet-willies. However, I was especially fond of, and skilled in the art of the stealth butter-cup.
Any fart that close, confined and perfectly delivered is gonna be heinous as my hairy anus. But, Annie’s brand was particularly potent, and disgusting. I literally gagged, sure I was about to vomit. I swung my door open and leaned out, dry heaving a couple times in a row.
“Haha, dude, I butter-cupped you. Bam. Nailed you. And my brand right now is nasssty. Saaavage. I don’t know what I ate, but damn. Haha.”
I couldn’t believe it was happening. Was she raised by chimpanzees, and about to start flinging t**d at me? Boogers? Anything seemed possible.
“Oooh, dude, I buttered the entire car. Hot butter-boxed it. You smell that?” She was exceedingly proud of herself. Guys, probably a good sign one isn’t future bride material. Her older brothers lingo seemed to rubbed off. It was like talking to one of my knucklehead bro’s.
She yucked it up the entire way to the restaurant. I wanted to kick her a*s out at 70mph on the freeway.
“Shut up. You mention it once more, I’m leaving your a*s on the side of the road here,” I growled. “You are f*****g disgusting Annie. What is wrong with you?”
“Hey Matty, language!”
“Seriously. You let some small rodent crawl up your a*s, die, decompose, then buttercup me, and you’re offended by an F bomb? You’re insane.”
I couldn’t have been any more clear. I would soon learn, the message hadn’t been received sufficiently. Not at all. If I had half a brain I wouldn’t have left her driveway, after that first buttercup.
The couple we were meeting was already sitting in a booth. We had only been seated for seconds, exchanged introductions, and she ambushed me again. I didn’t see her little shift/scoop move, as she secured her disgusting payload in the cup of her hand. She even disguised her stealth approach toward my beak. Feigning reaching for something on the table. Then veering toward me last second.
“Bam. Gotcha AGAIN!” She squealed, as she butter-cupped me, to the horror of our very square companions. Greg, and his new wife were as “Molly Mormon” as it gets. The last of any such friends I had. It was too exhausting pretending. Wide-eyed in horror, they couldn’t believe it. Greg, accompanied by a sort of thousand-yard stare muttered, “Did she just? Matty, that is freaking disgusting. Just wrong.” I just shook my head in disbelief. Complete embarrassment. Annie was either unaware, or didn’t give a s**t.
“I don’t know if I can even… eat,” Greg’s wife Tonya said softly.
“Bravo Annie, your brilliant charm will trigger a puke-fest the whole place can participate in. I’m sorry guys. We’re gonna eat, and I’m taking her home, stat. Who the hell does that?” Annie reacted as though we were just party-pooper bummer dudes killing her buzz. Treating her unfairly. Pissing on her brilliant humor.
We never overcame her stunt. Dinner was quite silent. Greg and Tonya ate half their meal and said they needed to leave. I was incandescent with rage. As soon as we were in the car. I let it rip. Maybe that’s a poor choice of words. I bitched her out up and down. Words I don’t care to repeat. She acted like the only thing inappropriate was our reaction to her dirty deeds. She didn’t get it. Didn’t care. It was only as we neared her house that she began to apologize profusely. She seemed sincere. Who knows. I knew I was done with Annie.
However, I wanted revenge. In the worst kind of way. Trickster pranks were a well respected art form in our home growing up. Elaborate, well executed. Stuff you only saw in movies or books. After dropping Annie off, it hit me. I knew exactly what stunt I wanted to pull on Annie. A stunt I only knew though Urban Legend. And, a dude, who knew a dude, who knew a dude who had supposedly pulled it off. I highly doubted its authenticity.
Only, with a twist. In standard form, what I had in mind wouldn’t scare or disgust Annie in the slightest. Apparently, that took a lot of doing. The twist I had in mind played on one of her worst fears. Rats. She hated rats. Spiders, rattlesnakes, they were nothing compared to rats for Annie. I needed an inside person to help sell the setup, before big reveal. I put the word out, and bingo. A dude I worked with at the diner now worked at the Movie Theater one town over. In various roles, but on the night-of, I needed him working the snack bar. Trevor assured me he would take care of it. I called him the day-of, and we went over the script. It was on for Friday night.
On the drive there, I began planting the seeds. “Oh man, did you hear about that restaurant and Movie Theater being shut down by the Board of Health? Hairless rats! Disgusting. Seriously, an outbreak of bald rats!” They found them all over the place. Gnawing through plastic and cardboard to get at food. One even got into some poor lady’s popcorn bucket. Now that’s a nasty surprise.”
She stared at me with a horrified expression. A shudder rocked her body.
“No, what? Is there such a thing? Bald rats?”
“Dude, are you serious Annie? Don’t you watch Discovery Channel? You’ve never heard of, or seen a hairless rat? They are the ugliest, most terrifying creature ever. The outbreaks are even worse than regular rat infestations. Because the other rats discriminate against the ugly bald rats. So they often starve to death. It makes them far more aggressive and nasty. F*****g dangerous actually. They have been known to kill, and devour pets 100x their size. Land piranhas. I know a dude who went to Mexico on his mission. Woke up with the tip of his pinky missing and the little f****r just staring defiantly. Chomping on humanoid hotdog, with a f**k you stare.”
Annie was one of the most gullible people I have ever known. She was buying every word I was laying down. She stared straight ahead.
“Well, maybe we shouldn’t go then.”
“No, it’s the same Theater chain, but a different location. The place we are going is totally fine.” I brushed off multiple suggestions we turn around and go home. After buying our tickets, I got in Trevor’s line at the snack bar. He gave me a gleeful, knowing smirk, more than ready to play his role. Annie was somber, silent, her head filled with vicious, bald rats.
“One bucket of popcorn, butter, no salt, and two Dr. Peppers.”
“Yes Sir,” Trevor responded.
“So, how long will your other location be closed down?” I asked.
“Oh, um, Sir, I’m not really supposed to talk about that.”
“C’mon, what exactly happened? I don’t believe it.”
Leaning in close and in hushed tones, Trevor began laying it on thick. Annie leaned in, lapping up every word.
“Well, hairless rats. It’s true. They are vicious and devour everything in their path. We found them in the popcorn, peanuts, they even tore open bags of Junior Mints, Nibs, Skittles, everything. They tore our storeroom to ribbons, eating everything you could imagine. I went over to help clean up. It was gnarly man.”
“But, but, not here? Right? The other location?” Annie whined.
“Oh yeah, I mean no, not here. We haven’t seen any of those little b******s around here. Yet.”
She turned to face me. “Yet! Matty, I wanna go home. Now.”
“Dude, I already paid. Got all the snacks and supplies, don’t be such a pansy. The man said they haven’t seen a single killer bald rat. With the Board of Health involved, they would never stay open if they had such issues here. Not a chance. C’mon.” Her focus now shifted.
“Hey, why did you say no salt. I love salt.”
I couldn’t explain why I insisted on no salt. You see, the dude with the starring role in this stunt couldn’t tolerate a single grain of salt. Salt is one of the last elements on Earth a dude wants coming in contact with his dill-hole. It’s a very sensitive area. Salt or anything like it in the dill-hole/urethra area is a nightmare adventure in pain. I can’t really get into details as to how and why I know that, just trust me. The Popcorn Bucket Boner prank requires no salt be involved. I was getting worried at the thought of that crappy oil they call popcorn butter and its effect on an exposed, throbbing member. Annie began wandering toward the Theater entrance. Trevor leaned in “Dude, are you really go stick your pink pretty penis into that popcorn bucket, haha. You are one f*****g twisted dude. You are about to go legend, sticking your pink porpoise in there and just waiting for the hysterical screams.”
“Dude, why do you keep saying pink?”
“Haha, what the f**k are you talking about? Every time we get our shine on, or ingest illegal narcotics you wave that thing around like you are undefeated in penis beauty contests. Dude, your nickname is Pink, it’s me you are talking to here.”
“Haha, okay, guilty as charged. Maybe I better throttle back on the pink porpoise displays.” His words embarrassed me. Even as a knucklehead teenager, fueled by drugs and alcohol, not much to be proud of when someone actually replays your past behavior verbally, point-blank. The teenaged boy can be the most vulgar of creatures. Add various molecules to the mix, and nothing is sacred.
“Thanks Trevor, I’m going in.”
“If I don’t hear blood-curdling screams, I’ll be disappointed. Now, go complete your mission, my son.”
Annie and I found our seats, avoided the more crowded sections. She was still pretty anxious. It didn’t take long for her exhibitionist self to appear. I had never been to the movies with Annie, so I didn’t know what to expect. We began devouring popcorn and she slid her hand into the pocket of my shorts and found her target straight away. “Well, we have the popcorn bucket, and now we have the boner,” I thought to myself. Suddenly, she excused herself. “I gotta run to the bathroom before the previews end.”
I made good use of my time alone. I scooped handfuls of popcorn out and dropped them on the floor. I didn’t want to have to wait until we guzzled enough popcorn for the big reveal to be possible. I punched a hole in the bottom and widened it enough for pink to fit through. I was worried, how uncomfortable, even painful, was this going to be?
I felt like a first-class pervert completing the task. The rubbing of the bucket on pink was enough to keep him, ahem, up, to the task. Annie returned and grabbed at the bucket dead-center in my lap. Yanking me towards her, I swayed her direction when she yanked on the bucket. Not unlike in the movie “Batchelor Party”when “Nick” the waiter offers a little something extra in the hotdog on the waist-high tray he’s offering the ladies. When they yank, he sways their direction. So it was with me.
“Dude, just reach for the popcorn, not the bucket. I’m leaving it on my lap.”
“Whatever, hogging it all. Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” as she went into a side pocket in her purse. My heart sank. My pulse quickened. I could feel my heart thumping in my neck and beads of sweat on my forehead as she pulled out two little bags of salt and ripped the tops off.
“No salt huh, haha, I always carry salt in my purse.” She said, quite proud of herself. Oh s**t. This is gonna get ugly. Do I abort the mission? I tried to slide pink beneath the protective barrier of popcorn but it made little difference. Those little granules rained down on my exposed tip. Instantly, it stung like a hive of bees, stinging all at once. I winced in pain. Noticing my reaction, she gave me an odd expression. As she tried to dump more salt, I yanked it out of her hand and threw it on the ground down the empty aisle.
“Why did you do that? I love salt.”
“Yeah, you said that. You’ve already put too damn much salt. Settle down, eat the popcorn and just watch the previews.”
The painful sting was unbearable. I thought of sprinting to the bathroom and yanking out my crank to flush it out in the sink. Two minutes. I’ll wait two minutes, them I’m hitting the head, and hopefully some relief. Somehow through the pain and drama pink was still standing at attention. I pushed him as high as I could near the surface. Hoping Annie would keep grabbing handfuls of butter and salt soaked popcorn. I didn’t have to wait long.
I moved popcorn out of the way to either side. In the light flickering from the screen, finally, I could see pink emerging from his salt-soaked hell. Finally in the open air, which only seemed to amplify the sting.
“I’m gonna chuck this, better eat up.” Trying anything to speed up Annie’s popcorn intake. Then it happened. While watching the screen, she made a grab with her left. Her claw seized not a single kernel of popcorn. Only the helmet, the final two inches of pink. Pink, the poor b*****d had held tough, played through all the pain, and the big reveal was at-hand. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. In this case, it was warm. 98.6 F, at least. Feeling the warm living creature in her hand, she gave a slight squeeze and shrieked in panic. I wanted to remove all doubt, “Rat, rat, bald rat,” I blurted, far too loudly. The entire joint turned around, startled. It’s not as bad as yelling fire. But, “rat, rat, bald rat,” isn’t all that appealing either. To be yanked from your amusement and snacks and filled with the filthy thought of a such creature attacking your leisure time in a darkened theater.
There were gasps and a few little girl squeals. Annie was the main attraction though. Louder than any Metallica show I’ve ever seen, “Aaaaah, aaaah, aaah, RAT, RAT. BALD RAT!!” She tried to knock the bucket off my lap, still attached, it didn’t feel all that great. I hurried to make myself presentable. Slipping pink back into his proper home. And as any dude knows, hiding your boner, point it skyward against your stomach. Protruding from your underwear, well, not in everyone’s case, but, you pull your shirt down and cover the exposed helmet. For purposes of stealth, pointing it northward, with loose, untucked shirt for bulge camo works every time. Beginning in about 7th grade, every dude on the planet must learn the art of Boner-camo.
Annie fled the theater, blood-curdling scream nonstop. The panic started spreading among women and children. Boner now thoroughly concealed, I stood and announced, “No, folks, there is no rat. It was a prank. Enjoy the movie, I swear, there is no rat, it was a stuffed animal I brought.”
Women and children glared me down like I was s**t-heel of the century. More than a dozen dudes chuckle of approval was clearly audible. Only the disapproval of their ladies stifling the bro-code approval. Exiting the theater, Trevor was waiting with open arms. Bro hugs went on for some time. “Dude, where did she go?” I asked him.
“Haha, dude, she ran outside, in fast motion like a Roadrunner cartoon, and just kept on going. She’s probably half way to Ogden by now. Dude, f*****g classico. What the f**k possesses you to do such s**t? Many talk and joke, you actually do that s**t.” He said it as if it were something to be proud of. I asked myself the same question often, but more like a heroin addict asks why they do it. I had been pulling outrageous, utterly inappropriate pranks since I was 6.
I thanked him for his help and went in search of Annie. It took some convincing to get her into the car. And to convince her it was pink, and not a hairless rat. “Why do you think I demanded no salt, my dill hole is still burning from your salt infusion. And why do you think I kept it in the middle of my lap? Because I was attached to it!”
The Buttercup Queen didn’t think it was funny at all, when she was on the receiving end. “Just take me home.” I couldn’t restrain laughter.
“Take you home? Home? Did you think I was taking you for dinner and dessert? Or maybe meet my Mom? So you could fart in your hand and slap it on her nose? You’re goddamn right I’m taking you home. Theres a whole lotta s**t I want to say to you right now, but, it’s pointless. All I’ll say, if you ever run into Greg and Tonya, have the decency to apologize.”
She gave me a shocked shitless expression. As if I had just slapped her face. A victim of hurtful and unfair words she didn’t deserve. “You owe me an apology,” she demanded, tears welling in her eyes.
“Trust me, you don’t want me to utter another word. Have a good night.” I got out, opened her door for her. I was raised OG gentleman. Yet still capable of the classless Popcorn Bucket Boner. At the top of the stairs, she turned around and angrily hissed, “A*****e.” Looking over her shoulder, worried her parents had heard the naughty word she used. I could only smile and shake my head. Words were futile and I genuinely didn’t want to unload with both barrels of nastiness. I will say this, by way of disclaimer, as times have definitely changed since 1993. No way to say this without sounding crude, I would have never deployed the Popcorn Bucket Boner if it was anything she hadn’t seen already. A character she hadn’t already met. Only the bald rat angle made it work. As I started to back out, she gestured wildly for me to roll down the window. She ran toward me. I was expecting more ugliness and recriminations, but what she said confirmed once and for all, that we were living on two different planets. Two different planes of consciousness and perception.
“Hey, wanna come in for a hot fudge sundae? My parents really like you. Especially Mom. She likes your tight jeans.”
“Yeah, these nutters are from 1989. When the battle of the bulge was as mandatory as the high tops and glorious flowing feathered mullet.”
I thought she was just f*****g with me. It actually made me feel bad for her. Empathy not anger.
“Um, no thanks Annie. I gotta get going. Thanks anyway, and I was off into the night. “A f*****g hot fudge sundae? What the f**k?” I said aloud. Repeatedly. I couldn’t have been more bewildered if aliens with vag foreheads surrounded my car and carried me away to their spaceship. Two decades later, before quitting Facebook on principle, seeing her friend request sent a cold chill up my spine. Which was quickly replaced by uproarious laughter. She had married that clueless dude she was “saving herself” for. “Poor b*****d,” I thought. “She invites the UPS guy in and rythmic thumping can be heard for blocks, haha.”
Remembering that night. Even the tip of pink began to sting, as if salt had been reapplied. It’s crazy how the humanoid hard-drive works and what it can trigger all these years later. Thanks for riding along, stay frosty, stay aerodynamic. I have dozens of other short stories, please give them a read. Until next time…
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