January 28, 1986 was a day I'll never forget.My brother and I woke up late, because we had watched one of the greatest Gary Coleman movies ever made ("The Kid From Left Field") the previous night. We ate our usual breakfast of donuts and potato chips while listening to a recently purchased Motley Crue tape. Leaving our house at 7:10 a.m., we ran into our "friend" Kevin -- who always had a bad joke and an even worse skateboarding story to tell us. Enduring 15-minute tales of transitions and Trashmore, we reached the front door of our beloved Churchland Junior High School.
This facility, which had doubled as a women's correctional center in the mid-70's, was governed under a tri-principalship. Mr. Glisson made a number of key decisions during his tenure, such as lowering the price of Mello Buttercup ice cream sandwiches and pulling the plug on students who sang Debby Boone songs in talent shows. Mr. Little was the enforcer of the trio. Anyone that said "Yeah!" to him was forced to do 50 push-ups on the lunchroom floor. Mr. Hartz was the free spirit of the bunch who added a dash of celebrity to CJHS. In addition to being a former linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs, Hartz had become a leader in the pet supply industry with his 2-in-1 flea collar invention. His love for animals was evident on this day, as the students were treated to an SPCA-sponsored assembly during the final period.
After six hours of three Mello Buttercups, 200 push-ups, and two bites from Rocky Raccoon, it was time to go home. While walking down our usual path on Merrifields Drive, we noticed something very peculiar. It was a porn magazine on the hood of a car. My brother and I glared heavily at the facing pictorial. The spread showed a big-breasted blonde in pink stockings having her twat tongued by a prim, conservatively dressed brunette. Other pictures featured a saucy redhead with a densely furred bush posing beside her cat, a rather grandmotherly woman in a rocking chair demanding you to "Eat her peach pie!" and a 19-year-old pledge forced to lap the labia of six future sorority sisters. We wanted to take the magazine, but my brother and I saw the figure of a man in the house adjacent to the parked car. Taking no chances, we left the porno on the pervert's car and made our way quickly to the next street.
I'd learned a very important lesson that cold January afternoon -- one which has been taught over the years by the likes of McGruff (the crime dog) and Michael Landon: NEVER TAKE PORN MAGAZINES FROM THE CAR OF A STRANGER! From that day forward, I only took pornos belonging to people I knew: my friend's stepfather, my uncle's girlfriend, and the friendly cashier at Uni-Mart. The acquisition of porn magazines without fear of repercussion is something every adolescent should experience. So if that guy in Merrifields still puts porno mags on the hood of his car, don't take the bait. Take the High Society under your father's mattress instead.
Because I'm not Jack Nicklaus, 1986 was one of the worst years of my life. At least events involving CJHS gave me the grist to construct this piece for Loose Screws some ten years later. As far as getting in the hot tub, you can forget about that time machine.
ReplyDelete