"I need you to go to my house."
My mother was recovering from surgery at the home of my aunt and grandmother. I was visiting her and upon walking in, instantly recognized the concern in her voice. I'd heard it somewhere near a thousand times.
"Okay“. Why?"
Your sister called. xxxx is drunk and walking around the neighborhood."
xxxx was a longtime family friend. xxxx had a problem and would often require both his family and ours to intervene. Requesting this wasn't enough to justify my mother's concern. I knew there was more
"He has a crossbow."
"What the fuck? He has a fucking crossbow?"
"Yes. Can you go and get it away from him?"
"This is some favor, Mom"
The thing is. She knew I'd go. I knew I'd go. The wildcard here was xxxx and his crossbow.
My cousin, Doug was home for Christmas and privy to this conversation. I looked at him.
"Your ass is coming"
"Yeah...Okay."
Our family copes by laughing at those things that would scar normal people. We laugh to keep from crying. It's a trait my mother passed to her children by leading through example. Life is hard and often sad and sometimes to get through it, you have to take humor where ever you might happen upon it
"I need some clothes since you'll be by my house."
"What do you need?"
"My robe, a t-shirt, my sweat pants, some underwear..."
"Jesus Ma..."
"Oh just my thong..."
I winced noticeably as she laughed at me.
"You know, sometimes xxxx ends up at my house when he drinks"
"That's great mom. I have to go to your house to retrieve your underwear..."
"Thong..."
I paused, "Where there may or may not be a drunk man who may or may not have a crossbow?"
"Can you pick up some Ruby Red Squirt?"
This was fucking pointless.
As we drove to disarm this man and pick up my mother's undergarments, the mood in my car was understandably tense. Doug and I barely said a word, only briefly summarizing the task at hand.
"Fucking Crossbow?"
"Yeah, the absolute BEST ending here is an arrest”, Doug correctly observed.
The worst possible endings were obvious and too numerous to mention.
We rounded the corner and instantly saw a crowd had gathered. I sucked in my breath sharply and heard my cousin swear quietly, almost to himself. The tension was palpable. I literally had to make myself press the gas pedal, preparing myself for the flashing sirens and yellow tape that would cause a group of fifteen people to gather in the middle of a neighborhood on a Tuesday afternoon.
We approached and I was planning how I was going to deliver whatever this terrible news was to family and friends and the crowd of onlookers simultaneously scattered like a flock of dirty pigeons.
There was nothing there. They seemingly just congregated for reasons I still can't understand and then parted as I drove by.
"What the fuck?" was all I could muster
We pulled into the driveway of my mom's house and I opened the door. I was about to get out of the car when Doug said, almost to himself,
"I hope he isn't wandering around in there with that crossbow."
The absurdity of that statement and the mounting tension of the situation were perfectly summarized. I pressed my head against the steering wheel and began to laugh uncontrollably.
Doug and I built up our courage and entered my mom's house. There was an eerie silence in the house.
Undoubtedly, you have entered a dwelling and have been struck with an ominous feeling that someone is in the house with you.
Imagine that feeling and then imagine that person having a crossbow. The burst of laughter between my cousin and I seemed a very distant memory.
We tiptoed through the house looking left and right. It must have looked like a scene from a war movie.
We were combat weary soldiers walking cautiously through a rice-paddy scanning the fields for certain death. Of course, Doug and I weren't carrying M-16's and it wasn't Charlie who threatened us but xxxx and his crossbow
It struck me then.
What were we doing here? This was above and beyond the call of being neighborly. XXXX was on his own.
"Fuck this. Let’s get her clothes and get the fuck out of here."
I moved quickly. I grabbed my mom's robe and sweat suit in one quick motion and opened the drawer for that last item.
My desire to get the hell out of there should have been paramount to anything else and right up to that moment it was.
Forgetting the fact that a drunken man with a crossbow might happen upon us, I reached into my mom's underwear drawer and pulled out a pair and in one quick motion, threw it over my shoulder with the goal of hitting my cousin in the face with his aunt's unmentionables.
Doug bent backwards at the waist at almost 90 degrees as the underwear sailed within an inch of his nose. Dressed in a black coat,He looked strikingly similar to Keanu Reeves's slow motion contortion as he avoided the gunfire of Agent Smith in "The Matrix”.
"Come on man, what the fuck?!"
We both erupted into laughter again. Two idiots, standing in the middle of an old lady's room throwing her underwear at each other while a man with a crossbow lurked somewhere nearby.
We never crossed paths with xxxx or, more importantly, his crossbow.
I tell people the ending of the story and it's always met with disappointment.
"That's it? kind of anti-climactic"
The alternate and exciting climax is my cousin or me being shot with a crossbow.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
"Porn and Quarters"
After meandering my way through 8 years of community college and undergrad, I had recently moved in with my mother. My plan was to complete 2 more years of post-grad to get my teaching certificate as the last 8 had produced a degree that qualified me to do absolutely nothing.
I was doing just that.
I enrolled at WMU to get a teaching certificate and reasoned to myself that substitute teaching would provide "hands on experience”.
In reality, I could work exactly whenever I wanted and get paid to read and manage my fantasy football teams while holding on to certain habits and lifestyles.
Happily, I took to substitute teaching. My hometown high school had provided me with constant work. I liked the kids and quickly became "the cool sub.” This was a distinction I held with great pride which pinpoints to a tee where my priorities were.
Moving back home at any age can alter the lifestyle one is used to. Doing so at 27 adds a degree of pride swallowing humiliation on top of any crimps in that person's style. Needless to say, my mother's upcoming trip to Germany was looked to with such eager anticipation that I didn't even bother hiding it. I extolled the virtues of bachelor-hood with my mom in earshot.
"MY mom is going to Germany for TWO WEEKS...house to myself" I'd say to friends, completely oblivious to the fact that no 27 year old man should ever speak that sentence.
The big day arrived and my upbeat mood was palpable as I drove my mom and her friends to the airport. The plans for my first afternoon of solitude had fallen nicely into place.
Day one festivities would involve porn, John Madden, and the joint I'd been squirreling away for this momentous occasion.
"First I'll get stoned, go get porn and Madden and ...OH...I HAVE TO DO LAUNDRY AND CLEAN," I exclaimed to myself after dropping the travelers at the airport.
I learned in college that if I were stoned, the menial tasks I performed were actually enjoyable while providing a focus and intensity that simply wasn't present when sober. Even now, cleaning the house or mowing the law brings forth a slight yearning for the scent of burning cannabis.
With my conscious altered and my focus narrowed, I set off for the necessary accoutrements, no hint of the disastrous trip that lie before me.
Things began swimmingly. I secured Madden '02 and was off to that nefarious corner of the store for some adult entertainment.
Family Video, ironically, has a fantastic porn selection. (On a similarly ironic note, Hollywood Video has no porn at all.) Rows of titles give recognition to a variety of fads and fetishes. New releases, retro, straight, gay, group sex, and solo. Literally anyone can find what they are looking for. After some perusing, I found "Hawaiian Blast”, A Kobe Tai/Heather Hunter feature. This had exceeded expectations.
The considerable down side to Family Video is the porn room was equipped with a swinging door more befitting a nineteenth century Old West saloon. Trying to open the door slowly was met with an audible "CREEEEEEEEEEAK”. A quick exit resulted in the doors banging against each other rapidly. Either exit sufficiently alerted the other customers that a pervert was in their midst.
It was probably the THC and the excitement of my find that helped me to forget this. I burst through the door remembering halfway through and tried to reach back and catch the unmistakable racket produced by the wildly flapping doors. This actually made things worse in that my attempts to slow the door sounded the afore-mentioned "CREEEEEEEEEEAK”. I had managed to elicit both undesirable outcomes in one badly planned moment.
I tried to steel myself. If you are high, the last thing you want is attention. It goes without saying that the only time you want less attention is leaving the porn room. My carelessness exiting the doors made me certain that an audience, and possibly a spotlight, awaited me. I stood in the little hallway separating the deviants from the general population and steadied my nerves. I strolled casually out and felt OK for about three steps until I heard a female voice say
"Hey, It's Mr. DeMott"
The only saving grace is the voice came from somewhere behind me so the look of shock and terror wasn't immediately seen. I actually considered for a brief moment, of taking off in a dead sprint and never acknowledging the voice I had clearly heard. Instead I stopped dead in my tracks and stared intently at the empty boxes in front of me. My brain rapidly firing as best it could against the THC and adrenaline flooding my system.
I was the only DeMott in the store-this person called me "Mr."-this person sounded young-this person was a girl. I wheeled around, pornographic movie and video game in hand to find two girls I had gotten to know through teaching at my old high school.
"HE-HEY-WHAT'S UP GIRLS?"
"Not much...you?"
Oh my mom's left the house to me for two weeks so I smoked some weed and rented porn and video games. You know...the usual
In truth, I have no idea what I said. Doubtless, it was awkward and my face betrayed me. I had no chance of this not spreading like wildfire and I knew it. I was fucked.
I left the girls probably four seconds before they exploded into tear stained hysterics at my expense. As I approached the counter, I felt a sense of relief in seeing the portly, pony-tailed cashier. With this kid’s lack of social life and knowledge of video games, I had no doubt; found a sympathetic, if not friendly exit from this hellscape. I could then try and salvage my day and my high.
Fate had other plans in the form of comic book guy's gorgeous and nubile coworker.
"Can I help who's next?"
I stood there, eyes watering, and stared at her long enough that comic book guy actually looked up from the customer he was helping and shooed me from his line
"She can help you, sir"
you treasonous fucking bastard
I meekly shuffled to the counter and placed the porn and video game on the counter. Certain I also reeked of pot; I watched her face carefully for any sign of reaching for a panic button. In the clear, I reached into my pocket and was awashed with a new horror.
I had changed all my cash to do the laundry. All that was left was a handful of quarters.
I don't know why I didn't just leave. It might have been defeat. Maybe it was dogged determination to make something of this awful trip. Whatever it was, it clearly altered my judgment.
It became clear, halfway through, that slowly and painstakingly counting the sixteen quarters needed to consummate the transaction was the worst possible thing I could have done. After I sorted the four stacks of four quarters and scooped them into my hand, I gave them to the video beauty without a word and hurried from the store and into my mother's mini van where sadly, a better day await me
I was doing just that.
I enrolled at WMU to get a teaching certificate and reasoned to myself that substitute teaching would provide "hands on experience”.
In reality, I could work exactly whenever I wanted and get paid to read and manage my fantasy football teams while holding on to certain habits and lifestyles.
Happily, I took to substitute teaching. My hometown high school had provided me with constant work. I liked the kids and quickly became "the cool sub.” This was a distinction I held with great pride which pinpoints to a tee where my priorities were.
Moving back home at any age can alter the lifestyle one is used to. Doing so at 27 adds a degree of pride swallowing humiliation on top of any crimps in that person's style. Needless to say, my mother's upcoming trip to Germany was looked to with such eager anticipation that I didn't even bother hiding it. I extolled the virtues of bachelor-hood with my mom in earshot.
"MY mom is going to Germany for TWO WEEKS...house to myself" I'd say to friends, completely oblivious to the fact that no 27 year old man should ever speak that sentence.
The big day arrived and my upbeat mood was palpable as I drove my mom and her friends to the airport. The plans for my first afternoon of solitude had fallen nicely into place.
Day one festivities would involve porn, John Madden, and the joint I'd been squirreling away for this momentous occasion.
"First I'll get stoned, go get porn and Madden and ...OH...I HAVE TO DO LAUNDRY AND CLEAN," I exclaimed to myself after dropping the travelers at the airport.
I learned in college that if I were stoned, the menial tasks I performed were actually enjoyable while providing a focus and intensity that simply wasn't present when sober. Even now, cleaning the house or mowing the law brings forth a slight yearning for the scent of burning cannabis.
With my conscious altered and my focus narrowed, I set off for the necessary accoutrements, no hint of the disastrous trip that lie before me.
Things began swimmingly. I secured Madden '02 and was off to that nefarious corner of the store for some adult entertainment.
Family Video, ironically, has a fantastic porn selection. (On a similarly ironic note, Hollywood Video has no porn at all.) Rows of titles give recognition to a variety of fads and fetishes. New releases, retro, straight, gay, group sex, and solo. Literally anyone can find what they are looking for. After some perusing, I found "Hawaiian Blast”, A Kobe Tai/Heather Hunter feature. This had exceeded expectations.
The considerable down side to Family Video is the porn room was equipped with a swinging door more befitting a nineteenth century Old West saloon. Trying to open the door slowly was met with an audible "CREEEEEEEEEEAK”. A quick exit resulted in the doors banging against each other rapidly. Either exit sufficiently alerted the other customers that a pervert was in their midst.
It was probably the THC and the excitement of my find that helped me to forget this. I burst through the door remembering halfway through and tried to reach back and catch the unmistakable racket produced by the wildly flapping doors. This actually made things worse in that my attempts to slow the door sounded the afore-mentioned "CREEEEEEEEEEAK”. I had managed to elicit both undesirable outcomes in one badly planned moment.
I tried to steel myself. If you are high, the last thing you want is attention. It goes without saying that the only time you want less attention is leaving the porn room. My carelessness exiting the doors made me certain that an audience, and possibly a spotlight, awaited me. I stood in the little hallway separating the deviants from the general population and steadied my nerves. I strolled casually out and felt OK for about three steps until I heard a female voice say
"Hey, It's Mr. DeMott"
The only saving grace is the voice came from somewhere behind me so the look of shock and terror wasn't immediately seen. I actually considered for a brief moment, of taking off in a dead sprint and never acknowledging the voice I had clearly heard. Instead I stopped dead in my tracks and stared intently at the empty boxes in front of me. My brain rapidly firing as best it could against the THC and adrenaline flooding my system.
I was the only DeMott in the store-this person called me "Mr."-this person sounded young-this person was a girl. I wheeled around, pornographic movie and video game in hand to find two girls I had gotten to know through teaching at my old high school.
"HE-HEY-WHAT'S UP GIRLS?"
"Not much...you?"
Oh my mom's left the house to me for two weeks so I smoked some weed and rented porn and video games. You know...the usual
In truth, I have no idea what I said. Doubtless, it was awkward and my face betrayed me. I had no chance of this not spreading like wildfire and I knew it. I was fucked.
I left the girls probably four seconds before they exploded into tear stained hysterics at my expense. As I approached the counter, I felt a sense of relief in seeing the portly, pony-tailed cashier. With this kid’s lack of social life and knowledge of video games, I had no doubt; found a sympathetic, if not friendly exit from this hellscape. I could then try and salvage my day and my high.
Fate had other plans in the form of comic book guy's gorgeous and nubile coworker.
"Can I help who's next?"
I stood there, eyes watering, and stared at her long enough that comic book guy actually looked up from the customer he was helping and shooed me from his line
"She can help you, sir"
you treasonous fucking bastard
I meekly shuffled to the counter and placed the porn and video game on the counter. Certain I also reeked of pot; I watched her face carefully for any sign of reaching for a panic button. In the clear, I reached into my pocket and was awashed with a new horror.
I had changed all my cash to do the laundry. All that was left was a handful of quarters.
I don't know why I didn't just leave. It might have been defeat. Maybe it was dogged determination to make something of this awful trip. Whatever it was, it clearly altered my judgment.
It became clear, halfway through, that slowly and painstakingly counting the sixteen quarters needed to consummate the transaction was the worst possible thing I could have done. After I sorted the four stacks of four quarters and scooped them into my hand, I gave them to the video beauty without a word and hurried from the store and into my mother's mini van where sadly, a better day await me
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