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Monday, February 28, 2011

62




This is dedicated to my dog, Skeedabe. Best bud evah.
(Skee-Dahh-Bay. Penobscot for Dude.)


Press play, count to ten, and let's go. Outside. Wanna go outside boy? Outside?





Monday was a light year away, so Lorelei's Exchanged parents didn't know anythingabout the dance. No one recognized her, you recall, so there were no phone calls from teachers.

Yet....


....that is.

But when you return a foreign exchange student to her exchanged parents twelve hours late from a Saturday Night School Dance on a Sunday, well, shit will hit the fan.

Ya think?

And would these folks compose themselves in the moment of return?

Here, you will see.

If it was my own Dotta, I would have been out there with a shotgun all night, and I would have brought her home, and there would be bodies on the ground.

But these folks, why, they had called the cops. And they were told that she was probably sleeping at her girlfriend's home after the dance, so wait until 24 hours had passed before filing a missing person claim.

Like lost luggage at an airport.

Before the Amber Alerts, no wonder we lost so many kids to perverted pedo-fuckheads.

But that previous night, this chick had inserted a rocket ticket into my mouth, and I was the one along for her ride, no return, no exchange.
Moon Shot, baby.

Yes, she was a good captain. The home landing left much to be desired. But even there, she would prove to be a good captain. She showed me true Punkology.

Enough exposition. Here ya go.






Lorelei stroked my arm as I drove toward her exchanged home. She was staring at me, but not in a stalker way. More like those moony eyes from the night before, except now, I could see the color of her eyes. She was not wearing those Elvis shades I'd bought her earlier, either.

Her eyes blazed bright green in the desert sunlight.

I think she wanted to eat me up with her eyes without anything in the way. You should know that I had eaten... well, I should be a gentleman here.

OK, she did not taste like beer and sausages, or coconuts for that matter.

Ya happy?

Anyways, the thought of our arrival to her place made me feel sick to my stomach. But I kept driving toward this ugly scene.

"Lorelei."

She squeezed my arm. "Yah, Veeee-ill?"

"Lorelei. What will we tell them?"

She looked out the passenger window.

"Fuck zem."

I pulled over to the side of the road. The air was turning cool in the desert, in the Fall of our discontent. Soon, the desert-scape would be all brown and ugly and rainy before the explosion of color in the Spring.

"Lorelei."

"Veeee-ill. Shhtop saying my name zat vay. You seem zo whorried."

I had to laugh. Who was this chick, she who had rufied me with her silky tongue the night before?

I turned to look into her green eyes, to make certain that I did not forget the exact tint of them. "These folks will be very mad. I just don't want you to get into any trouble."

She studied my eyes as well. "Veee-ill. You are not so sad anymore. Undt neither am I. Ziss iss vat counts ze most."

I could not take my eyes off her mouth, remembering her oral prowess with her lips, her tongue. "I guess not."

I thought for a moment. "Actually, I think that this is the best I've felt in a long while."

It was true. I could almost not remember the name of...

...of...


...Kaneetha, ....yes, that was her name.


Lorelei kissed me.

+++++++++++++++++++++


They came running out as soon as we stopped in front of her exchanged home. There were no cameras, no popping flashbulbs, and no smiles either.

There was shouting, and almost a fistfight, like Ornette Coleman or here, Ernie Watts on a Tenor Sax.

Perfect for a fight.




"Where the hell have you been young lady?" the exchanged dad yelled at her even before I had come to a complete stop. I left my Celica's engine running, for a quick escape.

Frightened, YES.

Coward, NO.

I stepped out and went around to open Lorelei's door, but she was already out, and standing there on the cement sidewalk, ready to face her oppressors.

I wheedled up along the side of my car, behind her.

Exchanged Dad turned his vehemence upon me.

"And YOU. How dare you creep back here a day late with this young girl?! What have you been up to?!"

I about shit my pants. Nice dude was all scary now.

"I...uhh...I..." I shrank a bit against my car.

Lorelei stepped up to his face. "He has nozzing to do vith ziss!" she hissed, and this made the angry nice dude stop in his tracks.

She went on. "You can only hope zat ze boy zat your daughter has met back at my home vill be ssso kind to her!"

Lorelei stalked off, and went inside, leaving me to face the angry nice exchanged dad.

"It's true, sir, I had nothing but the best intentions..." ...I pussied off there a bit, expecting him to pull a gun on me.

"I want to speak to your parents. NOW." He stood there with his hands on his hips. "Come inside, and we will call them up, and you, young man, are in a world of trouble."

At the mention of the word "parents" I felt a bit hot under the collar.

Well, I actually took offence to it.

OK, it fucking hit a nerve.

"My parents? You want to call my parents?"

Exchanged Dad faltered for a moment.

I went on. "You want to talk to my Dad? Well, guess what, he fucking died five years ago and left me here on this god-forsaken planet without a back-up plan!"

Oh, I was just warming up.

"My Mom? You want to call up my Mom?! Maybe she can come down here and kick your fucking ass, you arrogant bastard! Yeah, she will fucking shove a fucking war club up your tight ass and make you sing the fucking Rosary to your wife, you goddamned son of a bitch!"


Exchanged Dad backed off and turned to his wife. "Go inside honey, and call the police."

I was having none of that, and I didn't want him to read my plates when I took off, either, so I punched him.

Yup.

I went for it.

I knocked him down and punched him in the head, and kicked his glasses to the curb.

Then I jumped in my bitch and squealed my tires for the second time.

I was getting good at squealing tires and driving crazy, but becoming bad at dealing with those who had the power, or thought that they held any over me.

Fuck

That

Shit

++++++++++++++++++


Well, it was a mile before arriving home that I decided I should stop going sixty-six miles per hour through the streets of Fuckno.

You see, the traffic lights in Fuckno have always been synchronized at 33 MPH to reduce traffic congestion. This means that at that rate of speed, you can hit green lights all the way.

Simple math indicates that at twice that speed (66 MPH), or three times, (99 MPH), you will not see red at all.

Until you crash.

But I did not crash. The damage had already been done.

Now, you recall that those Exchanged Parents had taken pictures, don't you?

Well, one of those pics was of me and Lorelei driving off to the dance in my Celica, and after they had those films developed, well, there was a certain license plate glowing with reflective paint.

My plate had been photographed, and my number was called.



Huh.



The next day was Monday, and there would be Hell to pay.












God Help You.

God Help Us All.


---willies out.






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