This year, I refused to give out treats of any kind to kids for Halloween.
This year, whenever they knocked on my door, and blare out, "TRICK OR TREAT!!", I'd stroke my chin and say, "Nah, no treats. I want a trick. I want to see what you little bastards can come up with!! TRICK!! TORTURE ME!! MAKE ME PAY, YOU LITTLE TOOLS!!"
Many of them cried. The more intelligent ones realizes their bluff had been called and walked away defeated but dry-eyed.
But no one egged my place. No toilet paper hit my trees. My car remained paint-free.
I made my stand the other night. I said no 5-10 year old was going to get one over on ME! Their little heads couldn't POSSIBLY come up with a "trick" to screw me over. I'd ALWAYS outwit them.
Hyatte 1 Halloween 0
Besides, all I had was apples and razor blades. And boy, you should've SEEN the look on the cashier's face when I had her rind those bad boys up at the supermarket. That was all I bought that day, apples and razorblades... and was singing Miley Cyrus.... very, very softly....
"the last time I freaked out, I just kept looking down, I st st stutering when you asked what I'm thinking 'bout, felt like I couldn't breath, you asked what's wrong with me, my best friend Leslie said 'oh, she's just being Miley.
"The next time we hang out, I will redeem myself, my heart can rest 'till then..."
Then I would SCREAM "WHOA WHO I!! I CAN'T WAIT, TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!!"
I need to stop doing my food and sundry shopping drunk.
Anyway, that was my Halloween. Plus me and the girlfriend watched us both "Kill Bill" movies. She's a fiend for female empowerment flicks.
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Little tale from my past. There's a LITTLE punching up just to heighten the storytelling, but i swear to you, the following is all true.
1988. It was a time of Max Headroom and Micheal J Fox, and Lethal Weapon 2, Kirstie Alley on Cheers, and Jack as the Joker, and Moamar Quaddaffi, and the second half of Reagannomics, and "Just Say No", and Poison, and Bon Jovi, and the Crue, and Ratt, and the Scorpions, and young men all over the country wondering just when David Lee Roth would return to Van Halen...and hopes and dreams...
And your boy Hyatte with his STYLING 1980 puke green Monte Carlo. The dream car, the ride, the gift from his mother for good grades.
Unfortunately, my idea of good grades wasn't exactly my mother's. She gave me the car anyway. She had no choice, the auto shop where she had it kept brought it over because a big snowstorm was coming and he needed the room. THANKS MA!!!
High school was over, for good. Summer was here, and Hyatte had his crew. Nothing worth bragging about, just a bunch of geeks who knew each other's beats and had the same agenda in mind: let's have some fun before college, or the army, began. Let's party, drink, chow down, and have as much fun as this barren fucking state which was a few years from allowing 18 and over crowds into the clubs on certain nights would allow a bunch of guys with little to no money.
So, naturally, we hit as many town parties as we could.
Town parties were set up as followed: get as many people as possible inside and drinking before the cops showed up to break it up, because when the cops came, half the party would dive out of various windows and run for their LIVES. The ones who stayed usually ended up getting laid because the cops usually showed up, told us to keep it down, then left because they didn't have much to do there. Not when the host of the party was smart enough to hide the beer.
But this was suburbia and white suburban kids were usually terrified of the cops and didn't know that the cops had little stroke other than to issue stern verbal warnings before shucking off to the next party they needed to break up. Suburban kids scared easy.
It was a warm June Saturday. There we were, moping around the parking lot of our town's Burger King. There was Matt, Scott, Todd (who we called "Hector" for no reason I can think of), Dave, Steve, and Bill. Others came an gone, flitted in and out, but this was the core.
Not quite geeks, but note the lack of girls mentioned.
Were there virgins in our group? Yup. Was I one? NO!! Was I a playa? Was "Playa" even a term in 1988? No and No.
In high school, you sort of understand that nothing that goes on in there will mean a damn thing the moment you get out. You understand it - but your raging hormones and developing intellectual and emotional mind can't quite handle it. That four year slice of life grooming you go through just merely forces you to understand that we're going to spend the rest of our lives wandering around with other people who think and behave differently. It also gives you the first glimpses at the other sex, and how to talk to them. Some catch on quicker then others.
It took Hyatte a while to catch on, but for when I was a junior, in 1987, I had a long-term girlfriend that lasted almost 16 whole months. Her name was Polly, and she was patient with me. Then she was accepted to some University out in California... like, really, REALLY early... so I was dumped a few months into my senior year. I was cool with it. I figured I'd scoop another one up before the year was over. No problemo.
Didn't work out that way, for various reasons. Ah well.
So, there we were, my crew, on a warm June afternoon, kicking the hackey-sack around and wondering what we were going to do to kill another summer day. None of us had girlfriends simply because without school, and without 18 and under clubs, where the hell were they??
That's another kick in the balls high school doesn't tell you about. It's tougher to pick up girls when they aren't jammed against you in crowded classrooms and lunch cafeterias. Out in the real world, they tend to hide unless you got pot, beer, and a house with no parents.
Somewhere during the great BK Hackey-Sack Session, which was looking to be the main event for the evening, Matt saw someone he knew going through the BK Drive-thru and waved at him. I didn't know the kid but he waved Matt over. I heard matt yell, "Whattaya doin' scrubba?" Matt called everyone "scrubba". It was a term of endearment. Minutes later he returned and said, "Party tonight."
The hackey-sack hit the ground with a soft PLOP. Someone missed the side kick. Okay, it was me. Fuck off. I was never very good at hackey-sack and that stupid little beanball never made it very deep into the 90's, DID IT???
So we had something to do later that night. A PARTY!! To this day I forgot who threw it. But I DO remember that the kid's parents would be there... so coke and fruit punch would be the strongest thing there. We would need Scott's brother Herb (Yes, HERB!) to pick us up some Purple Passion, and maybe some Everclear.
And maybe some weed.
But, that was hours away. We still had the rest of the late afternoon to kill before we all took off to shower and get ready. We all stood around wondering what to do.
Hector picked up the hackey-sack and started the circle. I only fucked up the flow 6 times. Fucking hackey-sack.
I almost got laid at the party.
So we made it and the father had the grill going and the mother was serving drinks and Herb is being a dickface and only bought two sixes of Schlitz... and half a roach he found in his sock drawer. Barely anything. Steve thought his parents kept an unopened bottle of Peppermint Schnapps buried deep in their basement bar at his house... but he was too much of a pussy to try to steal it. Which, sort'a made me wonder why he would bring up the subject in the first place... but Steve was a clas-a pussy anyway. Always had been. Probably still is. Probably still has all of his babyfat too... heh. HA!! Creep.
Anyway. The party was a cook-out, set up in the backyard. A small backyard as far as backyards go, but nice... with fences blocking both sides and a natural, white-rock hill forming a back wall and some good sized evergreen trees forming a front line in front.. The parents had set up spotlights in front of said evergreens which was in front of said white-rock wall and they were BRIGHT... BRIGHT AS THE SUN!!
So there we were, all dressed up in... oh like I remember what anyone was wearing!! All I know is that I bought all my clothes from "Chess King" and I was CUTTING EDGE!! The jeans were Levis, the shoes were... umm.... sandals, yeah, it was Summer. The shirt had Judas Priest on the front from a concert I never went to but wore the shirt to school the day after he played in town just to look like I did. The hair was washed and fresh and brown and ALL THERE. And feathered right down the middle and LOVELY. We all were ready for some FUN, some MUSIC, and maybe some female contact... maybe.
But first, I had to piss.
"Go behind the trees, behind the lights," the host... who's face I remember (sort of looked like a rabbit with dysentery) but damn if I can remember his name. "The lights are facing the house so no one will see you."
"Why can't I just use your toilet in the house?" I asked. I would've called him "dude" but the word hadn't made it to New England in the late 80's yet. I may have called him "Scrubba" but can't recall.
"My sister's all perioding and shit," he said. "She's locked herself in there. She's being a wicked princess."
"Don't you have a second bathroom?" I asked.
"Just use the trees, peckerhead," he said.
So I did. And the privacy WAS quite nice. I took note of it. And from then on, behind the trees and behind the spotlights became known as the bathroom.
About an hour or so later, the party was actually pretty good. Lots of people were there. At two instances I remember overhearing the mother complain that she didn't buy enough food for these many kids. Me and the crew were all hanging out, laughing away, goofing on each other, other people, telling blown up stories from the last four years of high school without worrying if we were repeating ourselves. Scott (who had a red afro, yes.) had beaten MMA by about 8 years as HE was the first person to "Tap Out" whenever he started laughing so loud he had to stop. He'd start bawling with laughter, put his head to the table, and slam his hand three times on the table then wave himself off. Match over,
Okay... so its more of a wrestling three count... BUT HE TAPPED WHILE TITO ORTIZ WAS STILL HELPING HIS POPPA MOW LAWNS!!! BLOW ME!!
Anyway, I had gotten up to make myself another lovely Schlitz and Coke spritzer when a girl came up to me and started talking. A cute girl with long, sandy brown hair and a wide smile. I never saw her before.
"How's it going?" she asked.
"ACES, BABY!! I shoutes!! No, I kid. "Good," I said. "What's up?"
"Not much," she said. "I'm freaking out."
I smiled and stretched my arms out as if I just woke up from a nap... showing off the guns. "How come?"
"My ex-boyfriend just showed up and I don't want to see him. I don't want him to bother me." She looked behind her and then looked back at me. "So I'm just going to talk to you until I figure something out."
Immediately, I knew I was gong to kick some ex-boyfriend ass!! Unless he was bigger than me... or older... or black. "Well," I said, "what do you want to do?"
She looked around. "My friends are here and they don't want to leave. I just want to hang low until he leaves. I don't think he's going to stay, no one he knows is here."
And suddenly, a brilliant, beautiful lightbulb popped in my head... as bold as NEON!!
As bold as... spotlights.
"I know what to do," I said. "I can sneak you out of here and he won't see you." I started walking backwards. "Come on," I said.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"I'm going to the bathroom," I said. "And you're coming with me."
She completely froze in her tracks. In a split second her mouth went from gentle, nice smile, to full-out rictus of fear and outrage and horror. "Holy shit," she said. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!! No! No! No!" She started to back away from me.
I knew I fucked it up. But I tried to recover. "No, not that, I mean we can go into the trees back there and..."
"Oh God, get away from me!" She said, and then whipped around on a dime and RAN... full throttled SPRINTED out of the backyard and out of the gate. I'm pretty sure she decided her ex-boyfriend wasn't THAT bad right there and then.
I watched her go, and felt terrible for a full minute... then shrugged my shoulders and went back to my crew... none of whom had witnessed this.
So of COURSE, my plan was to walk her to the corner of the yard behind the spotlights so her ex couldn't see her, and then loop to the far side of the party and just hang out until she felt more comfortable. Of course. No, really.
But suddenly, it was like I was inviting this nice girl I knew for all of 90 seconds to go somewhere and give each other golden showers... or worse things...
I learned an important lesson that night. I learned the word "bathroom" is NOT a safe word to use with a girl you met a minute ago. I learned that chicks are not going to trust you after exchanging maybe 25 words.
And I learned that if I wanted to get laid again, I'd better enroll in some college. And I did... a year and a half later (slow learner, am I)
I don't remember much else about that party, or the rest of the summer. I lost contect with all of those buds... except that Dave became an engineer and did get married and just totally handed his balls to his wife, possibly at the altar. Matt got married to a beastly thing and bought his parent's house and seems to run a part time towing service for a living. Scott stopped into a club I was bouncing at and he had a girlfriend and she was just as obnoxious as him.
And me? I learned those lessons well, and learned lots more as the years went on. And still plan on learning more and more. And some nights, as I lay in bed reflecting of the continuing growth of the asshole named Hyatte, As the wind softly moans in the night and I lay in bed wondering why my Lord and Savior saw fit to remove a small portion of my hairline and a GOOD portion of its luxurious brown color... I can sometimes hear the soft voice of Joe Cocker waft through the night sky...
"What would you dooooo, if I sang out of tune. Would you stand up and walk out on me. Lend me your ears and I'll... sing you a song. I will try not to sing out of keyyya. Oh baby HAVE A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS!! ALL I NEED IS MY BROTHER!! HAVE A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS!! I JUST NEED A LITTLE HEEELP HAVE A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS!! OH BABY OOOOO OOOOO OOOOOOOO"
Hope that rotten, paranoid little twat is a single mom with 15 kids... all with down's syndrome. How dare she run out on me.
Comments next time around.
And you all waited 2 weeks for this!
