By Paul Morantz 1962

I was no longer fifteen, anymore. I was sixteen now, and a real high school kid. To myself, I was a man and it did not seem that I could ever be more mature than I was or any more intelligent. The world kind of seemed opened to me and I was free to do with it what I pleased. The combination of my car, maturity and a taste of excitement led me to crave more adventure. It seemed like a status symbol, to try to out-adventure your friends. I spent most of my time in search of it accompanied by my new high-school friends. My car seemed to attract like flies to honey.

I became typical of my new associates. We did not care for school; so instead of studying we spent our weeknights down at the library corner checking out the girls or down at the playground playing basketball. On weekends we would go party-crashing. We had a grape-vine that supplied us with all the addresses of B-10 parties (We were B-11’s). Before going, my brother, who never fails in his attempts to corrupt me, would have one of his twenty-one-year-old friends supply us with a couple of bottles of Red Ripple. At 26 cents, it is the cheapest drinkable wine you can buy. It gets you sick first and high later. We each drink about two bottles and then go out of our minds. If we weren’t really, we’d pretend we were anyhow. I had begun a new hobby – girls.

 Every time I went to a party I tried to pick one up. It seemed the expected thing to do. It wasn’t getting the girl that counted but just being able to kiss her, to get started. It was like a game. I tried to see how many I could make it with each night as we circulated from party to party. I used what I called the Bob method, because I learned it from Bob. I think he gave me the whole idea in the first place. Anyway, it was made up of guts, bullshit, forwardness and not caring what people think of you. I’d just go up to a girl and tell her all sorts of obvious lines and force myself on her. If she’d except fine; if not, that was fine, too. I’d just forget her and pick out another subject. It was sort of an attack and retreat system. I found the whole thing much easier to operate after a bottle of Ripple. Maybe, I lacked confidence, I don’t know. Guess I  was trying to prove myself.  I’m not sure.

I remember a quiet Thursday afternoon, during vacation, when I was outside by my garage shooting baskets with my friends, Ernie and Phil.

Ernie was our high school’s star basketball pitcher. He was sort of a complete guy: tall, dark-haired, good-looking, well dressed, excellent athlete and a well-liked person. But in personality he was a contrast. You couldn’t figure him out. He talked as if he liked girls, and I think he did, but he always kept away from them. This was a task, because they were always after him. When it came to going out, Ernie was the first ready to go cruising. He was never a stay-at-home. But once out, he acted shy. He was the school’s best dancer but he’d never dance. Usually he’d just sit down somewhere and bullshit with the guys and just silently watch the happenings. He seemed to have fun, though.

Ernie always anticipated picking up girls but he never tried. I was alone in this job. Once in a while, however, we would get him drunk and he’d really go wild. I didn’t have any other friends quite like Ernie. He was unpredictable and beyond understanding. You could never tell what he might do and especially what he might say. Like he used to get mad whenever I called my father the “old man”. He used to say it wasn’t showing respect. Then one night while at the police station for throwing water balloons out of my car at old ladies, he looked at me and said, “Wonder what my old man’s going to say.” Anyway, what I  liked most about Ernie was this wit he had. A special type of humor that I envied. He’d always say something at the right time. His mind, I guess, made him an individual and different from others. In many ways I tried to be like him.

Phil, too, was an unusual type. He was an Italian. He came from Bethlehem, Philadelphia where he used to go around with a gang of wops that would beat up on spics. Phil introduced me to liquor and other bad habits. He seemed to be a little bit more of a man of the world. He was slightly below medium height but has long wavy black hair, light complexed skin and baby features that were found attractive by girls. He was kind of odd in his own way. Sometimes, he had spells, I think. Once, he cut his hand just to watch the blood drip into a glass.

Anyhow, at the repeating sound of a horn blast, we turned to see my friend Terry’s ford pull into my driveway.

“Hi Terr,” I said. “What are you doing? Hi Al, how are you?”

“I’m going to this girl’s house, Bonita… You don’t know her,” answered Terry. “You guys want to come?”

“Of course,” Ernie snickered.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “We were…”

“They got a pool table,” Al quickly asserted.

“Pool,” Ernie screamed.

“Pool,” Phil repeated.

“Let’s go,” the two demanded.

We piled into the backseat. The start of another adventure, common and typical of high school life in the 1960s.

“How’s your love life, Mike,” Terry asked.

“Pretty good,” I answered. “I picked up a girl last weekend.”

“Flare picks up girls?” Al inquired.

“Sure, all the time,” Terry replied with a wink behind the steering wheel.

“What’s your secret, Flare? Al asked.

“X,” I answered. I knew that they were laughing at me but I defended myself, pretending not to notice.

“X,” he repeated.

“Yeah X.”

“May I ask what X is?” spoke Terry.

“X,” I told them, “is a little radar in my head that begins ticking like a Geiger counter when I get near an easy pick-up. It always leads me to the right one.”

“Do you get ass,” Al asked?

“Once in a while,” I answered softly.

“Not really,” said Terry. “The only ass he is gotten is from gang-banging a nymph and paying a Japanese prostitute.

“Oh flare, I’m disappointed in you,” said Al. “You’ve never had any real ass. You don’t know what it’s like till you make some broad do it willingly just for you. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, I’ve come close. But Y always comes up and cancels out X.”

“What in the hell is Y,” they asked.

“Y is the bad luck that always stops me from going all the way. Some bizarre thing always happens, like a girl getting her period. I remember a time… Well, forget it, you don’t want to hear.”

“That’s okay Mike,” Terry said cheerfully. “Here we are at Bonita’s.”

“Wait until you see Ann,” Al told me. “She’s mine.”

I don’t remember if that was the first time or not that I thought of X and Y. I didn’t understand what made them. I only deduced them from experience. At first, I think I made them up as an excuse but soon I began to believe they really existed. I guess I couldn’t understand, at least, not then.

Anyway, a little seven year old girl answered the door and told us to go upstairs. She screamed, “Bonita, there are boys to see you,” and we heard all sorts of giggles and shrieks upstairs. Girls always do that when boys come around.

“Bonita, Ann,” Terry introduced, “this is Mike, Ernie and Phil.”

“Hi,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” I was trying to be polite. I always cared about first impressions.

“Which way is the pool table,” was the first thing Ernie said, not trying to be polite.

“Downstairs,” Bonita answered with a sneer. I think she was used to it.

“Thanks,” Phil said and the two raced back downstairs, scarcely ever looking at the girls. They were that way, especially Ernie. I couldn’t I couldn’t understand it. While they were shooting, Bonita’s father came in and said, “Why don’t you go upstairs and talk  to my daughter. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?” Ernie says he replied, “Don’t bother us. We are playing for money and I’m winning.” I believed he really said it, too. I kind of admired him for it.

Anyway, back upstairs, I had just noticed Ann. she is that type you’re afraid to look at because you might start staring. She knew I was noticing her, too. I felt ashamed cause all I had on was an old T-shirt and I was botchy from basketball. She had blond hair, blue eyes and a clear complexion. Her nose was slightly bent but it didn’t matter because it was her body that stood out. It was bitchen. She was wearing blue jean cutoffs that exposed the sexiness of her well-shaped legs. My eyes stared at her toes and followed slowly up her desirable skin until it became hidden by the jeans. Then I spied her thin little waist that was below her stacked chest which was concealed by a tightly knit sweater. She was lying beautifully on the bed. She rolled over, slowly moving her legs in an inviting manner and twisted her chest. I was drooling. Suddenly, Al bent down on the bed, put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. My heart crashed with a thud.

I turned and looked at Bonita. She looked like she had just woken up about an hour ago. I’m sure she was trying hard to give us that impression. Her hair was in curlers and she lacked makeup, not that it would have helped. She had kind of a funny face and looked like she was on dope. She wasn’t really, she just looked that way. She was wearing an old sack-type robe that extended only as far as an inch above the knee. She’d either be walking about or sitting on the bedpost. Every once in a while, she fell back, trying to turn us on by exposing a beaver shot. She succeeded.

“Mike,” Ann called.

“Ye-es,” I answered. I was nervous.

“Terry and Al are meeting us at a party tonight. Why don’t you come with us?”

“Will there be a lot of girls,” I asked?

“I think so,” Ann said while facing Bonita.

“Betty and Sue, said they’re going to be there,” she spoke. “And they don’t have any boyfriends… but they’re looking.”

“Good! Let them look all they want as long as it’s not at me.” Ann giggled. I felt like Ernie. But if she only knew how I wanted her.

After we got Phil and Ernie away from the pool table, we left for home.

“What time you picking us up, Terr?”

“About eight,” he answered me, looking in his rear view mirror.

“How long have you known Bonita?”

“A couple of weeks,” Terry answered. “I’ve taken her out twice.”

“Bonita,” I mumbled. “Bonita…Bonita Fish” 

“She looks like a fish,” Ernie repeated.

“She smelled like a fish,” Phil added.

“She tastes like a fish,” agreed Terry, laughingly while licking his lips.

“She is a fish,” Ernie spoke out.

“A cold fish,” I concluded trying to get it on the act. Boy, what sick humor we had.

“Uh-uh,” said Terry. “Not cold. Anything but a cold. Especially when sh will e’s with me. Then she’s like…”

“Fried fish,” Ernie quickly inserted.

“How’s her gills,” I asked?

“Caught on my hook,” answered Terry.

“Yours is shaped like a hook,” laughed Ernie. That was Ernie. He always would come up with some crude remark. But he was still well-liked.

On the way to the party that night, we stopped at a drugstore where Al could lie his age and buy cigarettes. As we parked the car in the lot, the lights, before turning off, shown on a liquor bottle standing on an old crate. Instantly, Terry and I sprang out of the car in a race for it. Unfortunately, he won.

As we drove off, we examined the bottle. There was only enough in it to get one person high and naturally, since Terry got it first, he was going to drink i will t all. Only Al argued, insisting, as always, that he was the big drinker of the group.

“I can hold more liquor than all of you put together,” he boasted. He probably could, too. He made a life of it.

Paying no attention, Terry downed the 90 proof drink in two gulps. Al continued along, driving Terry’s car.

“Well, this is the address. Come on let’s go,” commanded Al.

“Get out Terry,” I said. “Terr?” He didn’t answer but just sat there in a wide glare. “He’s dead,” I cried laughingly. I knew he wasn’t, but it seemed the right thing to say. Boy, he was plastered.

When we finally got Ernie to stop laughing, we all got together and lugged Terry’s 6’3” 190 lb. frame up the stairs and into the apartment where the party was. It was quite a job. Especially since Terry walked kind of lanking even when he was sober.

Ann, Bonita and some boy answered the door. “What’s wrong with him,” asked Ann as we carried Terry in and flopped him on the couch.”

“He had a little too much to drink,” replied Al.

“Damn it!” I heard Bonita say. Boy was she a horny little thing.

“That’s what happens when ya drink,” said a deep voice. We all turned and looked at a guy sitting lazily back in a large chair. He was wearing an old lumberjack shirt that had the sleeves rolled up, exposing two hairy arms with tattoos on them. One of them said something “mother,” while the other was just some crazy picture. He had a mean looking face and sort of an unusual haircut. He had a normal amount of hair on top but a bunch on the sides and in the back; sort of Mohawk type. “Ain’t nobody gonna drink ‘ere,” he continued. “Cause if they does an’ I ketch ‘em, I’m gonna kill ‘em. And I can, too. I’m a MARINE.”

“We can’t drink at all,” questioned Al?

“No sir,” and don’t none of ya try to either. Don’t ever mess with a Marine, boy. We KILL. As sure as my name’s Jody,”

“What it like in the Marines?” I asked trying to soften him and get on his good side.

“It is only fer a MAN, boy,” he replied. “Ya learn how to kill.”

“I hope no crashers come,” spoke a girl trying to change the subject.

“If they do,” spoke the Marine, I’ll kill ‘em if ya like. I can do it with ma own hands. Break a man in two.”

“Well, if they are a lot of them, Jody, I’ll help you,” I said still trying to butter him up. Guess I was kind of scared of him.

“Thanks boy, but it won’t be necessar….re. Nice of ya to offer, but if there be more than I can handle with mah marine hand to hand combat training,  than I’ll kill ‘em from mah car. I got a machine gun in the backseat. It’s a marine machine gun. Know how to use it, too.” I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. He was crazy, but he looked mean enough to have his own machine gun.

However, our joyous little conversation was interrupted by Ann calling me from the next room. Naturally, in a flash, I was there by her side.

In a sexy voice I said, “Yes, what can I do for you, my love.” I tried to give her that suave approach.

“A favor, Mike.” She smiled and in her eyes lit up the darkness and the solitude that surrounded us. She reached up and put her hand around my neck and scratched the back of it. I love that. It can drive me crazy. It did. I got all excited. I moved closer. She moved closer. I got nervous and could hardly stand up. In fact, to keep my balance, I had to lean my left hand on the knob (the knob on the door).

“I want you to be with Bonita tonight,” she continued and suddenly I grew soft in expectations.

“No thanks,” I answered. “Terry’s of friend of mine and I can’t do that to him.” (I was a loyal friend.)

“But look at Terry (She’s all I could look at). He won’t know what’s going on tonight.”

“True, but I would and I’ve got a conscience. Besides, not Bonita.”

“What’s wrong with Bonita?”

“It’s what she is.”

“What is she?”

“A Bonita!”


At that moment, the fish came in and grabbed my hand. She pleaded with me, but I removed my hand from her fin and told her that Terry was my friend. Boy, she was horny.

“But it only for tonight,” she said. “What am I supposed to do while he sits there half dead on the sofa.”

I was about ready to tell her, but I repressed my evil thoughts. Finally, I said, “I tell you what. I promise that I’ll sober him up.”

With that she left and I was again alone with Ann and I decided to try a little Bob.

“Now how about a little you and me,” I said as I put my left arm around her waist and pulled up her luscious body into contact with mine.

“What about Al? Isn’t he your friend, too?”

“Yeah, but you ain’t no Bonita.” I reached down to kiss her gorgeous lips and she turned her cheek away; but only slightly. I felt the warmth of her tender flesh between my moist lips (I always slobber) and I wanted to crush her body until it blended with mine. But, she broke away and whispered, “Next time, Mike… next time.” There was never a next time.

Dejected, I walked over to Phil who appeared to be sneaking into the bathroom. “Hey Phil, how about helping me sober up Terry.”

“Can’t. I’m going to be busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing this, my friend.” He lifted up his jacket to show me a bottle of Ripple that was hidden.

“Aren’t you afraid of the Marine?”

“Naah! Are you kidding? That lug! He doesn’t scare me, none.”

“I wouldn’t let him catch me,” I said. I meant it too. I was afraid of him.

“Don’t worry, pal. I’m going to drink it here in the bathroom where the goon‘ll never find me. Maybe, they’ll have some Vaseline I can steal.” He gave out with a shriek of laughter at his own wit and then pranced into the bathroom. I think he was getting one of his spells.

I walked over to Ernie who was peacefully watching TV with a couple of girls hanging on him.

“Where’s Al,” I asked?

“He’s in that room, there, making it with Ann, he answered.

“Really,” I said trying to hide my displeasure. “How about helping me sober up Terry?”


Knowing we had our work cut out for us, we traveled over to Terry’s sofa. “Terry, come on, get up. We’re going for a little walk…It’ll do you good.” He didn’t answer me. Instead, he just grinned and rocked his head back and forth. Boy, he was plastered.

I bent down, putting his right arm around my neck and I tried to lift him, but he was too heavy. “Come on Terry,” I said, “try.” This time, I spoke encouraging words as I tried to lift him. “You’re a great guy, Terr. You know that? A good friend as a guy could ever have.” He kissed me.

I jumped back and roared. “You fink, you idiot. I’ve always wanted to tell you what I thought of you and since you’re drunk, I will. You’re a BASTARD! He blew me a kiss. I slapped him. He smiled. I slapped him harder. He smiled again.

“Hey that looks like fun. Let me have a whack,” said an enthusiastic Ernie. He gave a real windup and then let him have a beauty. But all Terry did was just smile. “My turn!  My turn!” “Okay but I get him next.”

Finally, the two of us carried Terry outside and began walking him back and forth to wear off the booze. I knew how Terry felt. I had been in his place many times.

It must of worked for he finally began to speak. It was a low muttering voice repeating, “Make me sober! Make me sober!” Then we let him walk by himself. He started marching back and forth like a soldier on guard duty. With arms extended, he walked unbalanced like, weaving from side to side, resembling Frankenstein, and uttering, “Make me sober!” He scared the hell out of some old lady who was walking her toy poodle.

At last came the big moment. Terry, as ordered, stuck two fingers down his mouth causing of rumbling sound deep from within.

“Here she comes, Ern. Duck behind a car!”

And there it came. “Blaat!” All over the sidewalk. It was a sickening sight, but one that I will undoubtedly see again.

“Again Terry,” Ernie spoke laughingly. “Again. Encore!”

He did and again he vomited his guts out. It only took a short duration after that to bring Terry back to life, and satisfied over a job well done, we brought him back to the party.

I sat him down at the kitchen table, while some girl was making him coffee.

“Thanks, Mike,” Bonita said as he leaned over and kissed me before returning to Terry. It kind of startled me.

Having nothing else to do, I walked back over to Ernie who asked, “Did you just have a tuna fish sandwich?”

“No! Why?”

“You smell like it.”

It figured.

About then, the doorbell rang and as the door opened, some guy, a party crasher I think, walked in. I didn’t like his looks.

“Lousy party ain’t it,” the newcomer said to me.

“I like it,” I replied trying to ignore him. He looked around making a complete survey of the apartment before returning to me.

“Hey buddy, do you play craps,” he asked eagerly?

“Yeah, but not you’re kind of craps.”

“Whadda you trying to do buddy, get wise,” he screamed as his hand grabbed me by the shirt, lifted me and pinned me against the wall.

Just then, while I was scared more than hell, I heard another voice. “Hey, that’s mah pal. Nobody treats mah pal that way. I’m gonna kill ya.” My Marine friend grabbed the guy and flipped him with some nifty judo. Then his left knee struck the victim’s chin and his right fist came down on the back of his neck. The intruder just lay on the floor, unable to move. Boy, I was glad that I was nice to him. Jody stood over his conquest in a fashion similar to Tarzan and cried out, “I’m a MARINE!” Then he picked the guy by the back of his shirt and trousers and slung him out the door with enough force to send him tumbling down the stairs.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Weren’t notten. All in a Marine’s days work.” I was still scared of him, though, and I tried my best to keep away from him.

After that I walked into a dark room and sat down. I wanted some peace and quiet, I guess. Terry, Bonita, Al and Ann were so busy making it on the floor that they didn’t even notice me. Boy I was envious of Al. They were really going at it. I could picture myself in Al’s place with that wonderful girl wrapped around me, smothering me with ecstasy. It got so bad that I was regretting sobering up Terry. The mood I was in, I’d even make it with Bonita. I watched Terry kiss her. He was smacking her smackeral lips. She really got excited. She was moving and jumping around like a fish out of water. I made up my mind. I was going to get one of the girls at the party, Bob style, and bring her back into the room.

There were three other girls there. Naturally, I picked the best of the three.

“Hey beautiful. Yeah, you. I’d like to talk to you… In private. You know I’ve been watching you all night.”

“Really. I haven’t noticed.”

“Why don’t we go in that room over there and talk.” She looked towards the room and then smiled. “All right, but first I have to go to the bathroom and tidy up.” I don’t know why she had to. She knew she was going to get messed up anyhow. X had done its job, but now it was Y’s turn to ruin it.

I was right behind her as she opened the bathroom door. There on the floor was Phil, asleep, with his shirt off displaying his handsome build, and an empty Ripple bottle in his hand. “He’s drunk too,” I remarked while thinking that maybe it was just one of his spells.

“He’s cute,” she said within an eager look in her eye that spelled trouble.

“Hey let’s go for our talk now.” I was impatient.

“H’mm, is he’s cute!” She reached down and massaged his belly. Phil’s body quivered for a second and then from his throat came a shriek, “Don’t do this to me!”

“He’s delirious,” I said.

“He’s having a bad dream… the poor little baby.” Then she looked up at me and continued, “I’ll talk to you some other time,” and slammed the bathroom door shut in my face. Can you imagine that?

Next I went to work on another girl who was so-so looking. Almost had her, too. Got her right up to the make-out room door. But when she looked in, something must have scared her. It was probably sex, because all of a sudden she brought her hand up to her mouth, took a step backwards, turned and then ran out of the apartment, never to return. Who knows, maybe the crapshooter got her.

I walked around the room, kind of disappointed. When I looked up I saw the remaining girl, a fat ugly monster, smiling at me. She nodded her head and pointed at the dark room as if to say, “YOU, me, we go make love… together as one.” I nodded my head as if I was saying, “Uh-uh…not me. I know easier ways to get sick.” I guess she didn’t take no for an answer, because she waddled her distorted body over to my presence. I could hear her growling like a wild animal as she approached.

“Are you looking for a girl,” she asked?

“Yeah, know where I can find one.” I was imitating Ernie. That’s exactly what he would have said, I think.

“I’m willing.”

“I’m not nor do I think capable.” Ah, what wit.

“Please, I don’t have much experience and I’m trying to get some.”

I looked at her body. It was the same all over- wide. Boy was she big. Her face was as ugly as she was fat. “Go experiment on \ Ernie,” I said.

“I tried. But he threatened to call a policeman and have me thrown into a big cage.”

“How about Jody.”

“He’s my experience. Please!”

Well, I figured what the hell. A girl is a girl. I’ll just pretend she is Ann. Maybe I’ll do a little experimenting myself. Besides, she’s got big tits and I was real bad off.

We lay down on the floor amongst the other couples and suddenly, I felt two strong arms reach around me and clamp me to her plump body as if I was strapped by iron bars. I was done for… trapped, unable to move. There was no escape.

“Terry,” Al said. “Who’s Flare with?”

“I don’t know,” Terry said. “Let me look…OH NO!”

“Who’s he with,” Al repeated.


Don’t tell Ernie, I said to myself in prayer, don’t tell Ernie. Ann looked over and saw what I was with and gave a disgusting look. I lost what chance I had with her.

I got a ribbing from Terry and Al. I mean, how was I to explain that it was Y that got me the bear and not really X. It wasn’t my fault, I thought. Still, I regretted it, myself. When I came home Thursday night and I realized what I had been with, I got all sick as predicted. I took a shower and then gargled with Listerine. I couldn’t eat all of Friday morning just thinking about it.

The weekend adventure continued, as Ann and Bonita invited us to another party on Friday. I resolved myself to conquer the X and Y curse.

The five of us in my car drove up to the party which was at a house in Trousdale, a real high-class neighborhood. It was sort of an unusual party. The type I like. We were the only boys invited. The girl who was throwing it had her own separate little play-house located in her backyard across the other side of the pool from the main house. Her father, who was in his den watching T.V., had allowed his daughter to throw a pajama party, a sleep over, on the condition that no boys would attend.

It was for this reason, that we tiptoed around the house, following our map drawn in lipstick, and quietly entered the girl’s party. We didn’t bring any booze. They told us that they had their own.

When we first walked in, I was kind of disappointed. The girls were friendly and eager but I didn’t like them. They were all dressed in men’s pajamas so nothing was revealed. Most of them had on robes and they all looked rather ugly.

Al went over to Ann and put his jacket around her to keep her warm. Then, they went for a walk. She looked pretty happy from drinking. In fact, a lot of them looked pretty high. I saw them stop and kiss each other. Boy, Ann was passionate. In fact, Al had a swelled lip from the previous night. But boy, did I want her.

Terry dragged his overgrown body across the floor to embrace his Bonita. “Come here,” he said and then he almost gobbled her up with a kiss. Couldn’t blame him, though… After all, it was Friday.

Phil found himself a bottle and sat down on some couch drinking and scheming on some broad.

Ernie and I stood up against a wall in identical positions with our arms folded. Only an inch of space separated us. We gazed across the room. It was a nice place. It had carpets, furniture, and even its own refrigerator and T.V. You could tell that the family must really be rich.

I was waiting patiently for a sign to tell me which girl I would use my Bob method on. I don’t know what Ernie was thinking (I never do). It was probably baseball. Then, however, I saw her. My eyes really lit up on this gal. She was wearing one of those black Susie Wong skirts with the slits up the side. Boy, are they sexy looking. She had short black hair, but she wasn’t too good looking. She didn’t have too much beneath her black pajama top, but I didn’t care. It was those sensuous, suggestive thighs that I craved. Every time she took a step, more leg would slide into view. There was something else I liked about her walk – it was crooked. She typsied back and forth so much that the liquor was spilling out of her cup. X began ticking.

“By Ern, talk to you later,” I said as I followed the pandering sound of X.

“Hi,” I said to her. She looked up from her drink with bloodshot eyes and said, “What’s your name?”

X was going crazy. “Mike…a…Edwards. Mike Edwards.” She smiled. “What’s your name,” I asked.


“Anita what?”

“Anita Mann.”

I swear that is what she said her name was. Boy was X getting hot. “What are you drinking,” I inquired?

“Havatast,” her answer sounded like. She kind of slurred her words as she spoke. I took the cup that she handed me, making sure that her hand contacted mine. As I gulped down the liquor, I felt a hand reach around my waist and cling to my hip. X was steaming.

“Let’s sit down,” I offered. She did not answer me but just followed me to a couch. We sat down, we embraced, we kissed. I was interrupted, however, by Ernie motioning me to his side.

“Excuse me, love,” I said trying to be suave again. “Don’t go away, I’ll be right back.” I turn to her again as I walked off and repeated, “Don’t go away.” In my heart, I prayed, “Please.”

“What a you want, Ernie?”


“What! I’m with her.”

“I know, but I saw her, too, and I was going to go up to her, but you just beat me there. And since you’re my pal…”

“Tough luck, PAL. Besides, you’ve never wanted anyone I was with before.” It was true; this was unlike Ernie, if anything is unlike him.

“Come on Mike,” he begged. “You get them every week. Be a friend. How about letting me have one for a change.” I think he was buttering me up. I thought about Y. I wasn’t going to lose again.

“Not this time. Maybe some other time. There are plenty of girls here. Pick one out.”

“Will you get mad if I compete with you…She’s got such nice legs.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with them,” I said trying to discourage him. I didn’t want competition. I turned to look at those legs and saw Anita Mann kissing Baby-Face. I raced over to the couch.

“Get away from her, Phil,” I cried! “She’s mine. I saw her first.”

Phil laughed, got up and said, “Thanks for the loan.” Then he turned to the girl and said, “Sorry, I guess you’re stuck with him.” I sat back down on the couch, as Phil walked off, and embraced her. But a shadow hovered over us. The shadow of Ernie.

“I am a pitcher for our high school’s baseball team,” Ernie addressed Anita.

“Oh, really,” Anita answered groggily. “I like (hic-up)…”

“Go away, Ernie,” I interrupted. “Get your own for once. Beat it.”

“I will, later,” he remarked in that crude humor of his. “But right now I’m staying here.”

“Come on,” I said to Anita. “Let’s go find some privacy.”

We walked outside and traveled towards my car. “We’ll go in the back seat where we can be alone,” I whispered softly into her ear, licking a passage for the sound waves.

When we reached the car I stopped. I was nervous but eager. I put my left hand tightly against her back, and granted her an assuring kiss, while reaching back with my right hand to open the car door.

A head fell out and hit my leg. It was Terry’s. He had been leaning against the car door while making it with Bonita.

I apologized to him before we entered the back-seat. Inside, I got Terry to one side and whispered to him so that girls couldn’t hear. “Terr, I think I can get this girl if we’re alone. She’s really drunk.”

“Well, I’m not going to leave,” he replied. “I’m having fun, too. Go ahead and get her. We’ll be lying low and Bonita will never know what you’re doing back there.”

“I hope not, she’d be in for a “whale” of a surprise.” I loved the way Terry tried to repay the favor I did him last night.

The car was quiet. Only the restless movement and passionate moaning of Bonita could be heard above the nervous beating of my heart as my hand massaged the willing and able body of Anita Mann. What… I thought to myself. What do I do next? I had never gone this far before without help. It was new for me to do all the work and not the girl. I never before realized how inexperienced I was. It was frustrating.

Suddenly, I felt her hand grab mine and place it beneath her pajama top. “Thank God,” I muttered. It was only a matter of time now before I figured out how to do the rest of it.

Alas, Y began to work, bringing my doom. Hearing noise, I looked up to see everyone from the party standing around the car. For some reason they had all come outside. Everyone was there, including Phil, Ernie, Al and even Ann.

I let out with a silence groan. How was I to proceed with my intentions when we had an audience? They were all, whenever they saw fit, glancing at the love-makings in the car. An idea, a solution, struck me, however. I leaned over the front seat and whispered again to Terry, “Start the car, drive off. This girl’s got it bad. We both can get her. Drive off!”

“I can’t,” Terry answered.

“Can’t! Why not!” I couldn’t hear his answer because his words were drowned out by Bonita pulling Terry into her slimy grasp and exclaiming, “Don’t do that to Anita or I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Shut up, you, or I’ll stuff you in sardine can.” Wish Ernie could have heard that one.

I never found out until later that Terry was trying to tell me that the keys were in my pocket, because I had to turn and grab Anita Mann from the window where she was making it with Baby-Face again.

“Get out a here, Phil,” I cried in rage. He is saluted me in an awkward way and laughed. I grabbed Anita and kissed her savagely. Then, I heard Phil, “Flare, Ha! Do you slobber!” That made me mad because I knew it was true. I tried to stop but I couldn’t. Guess it was my saliva glands. All I could do was wipe up the drool from her face. Luckily, she was too drunk to notice.

Anyway, she started to unzip my pants and I, taking the cue, began to take off her skirt, except that I could not find the zipper or button or whatever unfastens it. But I guess Phil was watching close, cause suddenly, he opened the door, so the lights would \go on and he could get a better look. We both jumped up and re-dressed. “Damn it, Phil…SHUT the door.” He did but first I had to listen to that crazy evil little laugh of his. Oh, was I mad. But funny, in a sense, I was relieved.

“Come on, Terr,” I pleaded again. “Drive off. She’s pumping on the seat.” She was, too. She was moaning and everything. Boy, she was drunk. Suddenly, I said, “Terry look!” Anita Mann was taking off her Susie Wong skirt and she had nothing on underneath. I swear it. I just sat there in shock. I guess Phil was still watching because he jumped in the car again and started kissing her.

“Damn it, Phil,” I cried. “This one’s mine.”

“YEAH… I don’t see her struggling away to get back to you.”

“Get out of my car,” I demanded and at the same time opening the car door for him.

I guess all the commotion attracted everyone’s attention for they were all looking in when the door opened. The big bear that had made it with me the other night was there, too. I guess she had just arrived. Anyhow, as the door opened, the lights went on exposing Baby-Face committing a sensuous act with his finger beneath the bare legs of Anita Mann who sat on his lap. The Bear let out a growl, flexing her biceps, and then gave Phil a hard slap with her right paw, leaving a reddening claw mark on the Bab-Face. As Phil retreated towards me, the Bear reached in and pulled Anita out.

Anita struggled with her friends, trying to get back to us. But it was to no avail. I heard one of her friends say, “Anita Mark, how could you?” I’ll never figure that out.

At that point, the father came out and ordered us to leave and for the girls to go back inside.

After receiving the keys, Terry drove off. “How come she slapped you,” Al asked Phil?

“Smell his finger and you’ll find out why!” snickered Ernie. They were all laughing, but I wasn’t. I was mad. I had come close and Y had beaten me again.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “Let’s go back.”

“Huh! What for,” asked Terry?

“I ain’t bullshitten, honest. We can really get her. All of us.”

“Did X tell you,” laughed Al.

“I just know. Come on… Let’s go back we can sneak her out and drive off.”

“How would we get her,” asked Phil, who seemed to be taking a serious interest in what I was saying.

Well, we could have one guy driving, while another is in the back with her. The other three could wait on the corner. Then we would rotate positions.

“And who goes first,” asked Al?

“Well… I picked her up. I get all her first.”

“Yeah, but I had her last,” inserted Phil.

“I don’t think is the right thing to do. Do you Al,” asked Terry?

“No,” he answered. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired anyway and Ann satisfies me pretty good.”

“You guys are nuts,” I said. “It’s a sure thing.”

That’s the way it went. Terry and Al said that they couldn’t take advantage of a girl like that. Phil and I thought otherwise. Ernie didn’t care either way. But Terry was behind the wheel, and even though it was my car, he got the final say. I guess Y had planned it that way.

I tried calling Anita the next day for a date. That’s when I found out for sure that her name was Mark not Mann. Anyhow, she wouldn’t go out with me. I even told her that we had decided to go steady last night but that didn’t work either. One of her friends, the Bear, I think, told her what really happened.

As I said earlier, at first I had just made up X and Y as a joke, an excuse. But then, I swear, I really believed that they existed, cursing me. Maybe, they really do. Maybe, they’re just a result of the mass things that make up me.