Cast of Characters:
Owen
Dr. Hob
Cool Roy
Zippy
Three nameless girls (it’s a blur)
The ‘Able Sable’s Sling Shot
A thick cloud of dust clouded the entire gravel driveway, and quickly drifted into our backyard. I tasted the dirt, and choked on it. All of the ‘Able Sable’s windows were wide open, all of us were coated with the dust. It was very late in the spring evening, or very early in the spring morning, depending on what hours you were keeping. At the time, the residents of 422 Rochelle Avenue, us, were keeping some strange hours.
In one amazing, physics defying, stunt car motion, Cool Roy, the pilot of the Able Sable sling shot us right into our gravel driveway from a yellow traffic light just positioned on the street corner, right in front of our house. It was amazing driving. In one single, like motion, because who wanted to wait at a traffic light right in front of the house at 4:30 in the morning, Cool Roy stepped on the gas, jolted the steering wheel left, holding onto it for dear life, leaving skid marks behind, jettisoned the car into the driveway, and skidded to a halt, inches, literally inches from the garage.
While the dust settled Cool Roy said,”We’re home.”
The 422 crew was returning from a night gallivanting through downtown Manhattan’s bars. We peeled ourselves off the seats of the Able Sable, and headed into our dark home, and the beds awaiting us.
Side Note – The ‘Able Sable was Cool Roy’s party car. It was beat to hell, but had both character and purpose. It was used as a shuttle to and from NYC. We parked it anywhere, in any neighborhood because Cool Roy really didn’t care whether or not it was stolen. Essentially, it was 422’s own drunk bus, and it was put to good use.
Breakfast – Cookies & Milk
Our modus operandi after an evening out was to stumble over to the local 24 -7 convenience store. The 7 -Eleven was just across the street, so were there often, and were familiar with the staff, and the staff was familiar with us. Always did we greet them with slurs, smiles, chuckles, and always did they greet us with grimaces and cold shoulders. Apparently, we were in better spirits than they were at 4:30 in the morning. Also, we were drunk and they were working as the sun was about to rise.
My modus operandi was to feed on cookies, preferably, Entenmanns’s Chocolate Chip Cookies, and a liter of milk. We would walk the walk home, and sit around the dining room table recapping the night’s happenings.
This very morning, Cool Roy was staring out the window at the traffic light he just recently sped us through. There was a pick up truck at the red light. There were three, what appeared like girls, in the truck. Cool Roy with cookie in hand set the remainder of this story into motion when he randomly shouted out, startling everyone at the table, “Hey, you girls want to party?”
Fraggle Rock at The Traffic Light, The Sun Is Rising
The sun was coming up. Birds were beginning to chirp, and the girls in the pick up truck drove away. Who could blame them? They were just accosted by a stranger who was inviting them into his strange house at 5:00 in the morning. They were of sound mind.
Wrong. Several cookies and laughs later there was a knock at our door. Cool Roy, the one who instigated this, was scared.
Cool Roy – Who is that?
Hob – It’s probably the ladies in the pick up truck. Go answer the door.
It was a loud knock at a very strange hour. Knowing our house and the guests we entertained it could have been any sort of character, illicit transaction, or potentially the law.
Zippy – You started this. Get the door.
Mumbles were heard. Hob, Zippy and myself detected feminine voices as we hid in the dining room. Before we knew it three women, I use that term lightly, walked into our dining room. We were stunned. They were not attractive, sorry, but at that hour of the morning, and a potential hangover looming aesthetic qualities matter, a lot. Keep in mind the word awkward, and then use every synonym possible to paint your own picture of the early morning house guests.
We had a bar in the basement, an underground lounge, a nice, GQ smooth atmosphere, so Cool Roy suggested we all have a drink downstairs, breaking the tension. The bar was well stocked, and it was dimly lit – a perfect combination when it came to the necessary tools for entertaining our guests, and the silence that stood between us.
As we headed downstairs, the ladies in front, Cool Roy turned to us and whispered,”Dude, the one looks like Snaggle Tooth from Star Wars, but she belongs in Fraggle Rock.”
We laughed out loud. Let the party begin, and who wants an early morning Bloody Mary?
Tomorrow: Megadeath Plays Fraggle Rock (conclusion)
Resist. Multiply. Snaggle Tooth.
God is definitely a woman, and she definitely has a sense of humor, a wicked one at that, just take a look immediately around you and a gander at the spinning world in which we all cohabitate. It’s a hairy place, and heh gang, speaking of hairy, let us discuss, and dialogue about manscaping. Manscaping, the removal of body hair via scissors, clippers, electric shaver, is an important part of my life, particularly in these warm, muggy months of fading summer 2009.
