aaron_the fall of America_chapter_07

Chapter 7

Without a creed to follow, life is somewhat a mystery. There is ever much to learn but always more to not understand. Either we live as open receptors observing what we can or we content ourselves with pretending to know.

Isn't it?

When we were children on the streets, we didn't know what, if anything, mattered and seldom had the time to care. Our greatest aspiration was to fight against boredom.

On one of those days where boredom was stocking us like a hungry phantom, Rick decided we should go over to the government subsidised low rentals to pick up some girls. Although we were from a government sponsored home ownership made easy community, he had it figured that the low rental town houses would prove to have easier girls. The girls on our street were mostly sisters anyway, therefor we had to travel somewhere; we chose a high-density area.

I was a little nervous about approaching girls but peer pressure made it impossible to back out of this expedition. Luckily, we were all armed with good looks and good athletic physiques so our potential for success was reasonably high.

I can't remember how we introduced ourselves into the area but there didn't seem to be any territorial borders. We were graciously adopted into their community. The other boys didn't mind us being there and the girls knew what we were there for and were glad to make their selves available.

Ken and Jamie lost interest after the first day and Rick only lasted a few days with a thin, French looking girl with long dark hair. Mike, Tim and I kept returning. Only a few visits were needed to find a girlfriend. I chose, or she me, one of the buxom twins, Darlene, disappointing the other, Debbie, because she had already asked me out on a date and I had turned her down.

Mike had a few days with the same girl Rick had a turn with before having a week with the sexy sister of the twins, which was followed by a longer stint with Beaver. Beaver was not called Beaver because of a promiscuous reputation, rather she chewed on wooden furniture as a child. Although she was Mike's girl, I enjoyed kissing Beaver; she was expert at it. I also enjoyed kissing Tim's girlfriend. She had very nice soft lips.

Perhaps Darlene suspected I was an asshole, but it wasn't my intentions to upset her. It was a relatively new experience to have a girl's tongue in my mouth and I wanted to do it as much as possible.

We spent our early summer days there. I got my car licence that year. We took the girls out in my father's big Mercury, power by Ford. It was a powerful monster machine that gave me great pleasure. For kicks, I would sometimes drive on to the shoulder of the road at high speed, slam on the brakes, swerve out of control, then see how quickly I could get back on the road with out ending up in the ditch. Usually nobody noticed. They were too rapped up touching each other or yelling about something. The last time I tried that particular stunt, we were travelling at one hundred twenty kilometres per hour along a two lane highway. When I had gone through the ritual, I found myself on the wrong side of the road, face to face with the death jaws of a cement truck. I just barely managed to get out of his way. I awoke to the fact that I would have to find a new form of entertainment. Nobody in the car had noticed how close death was that day and the cement truck driver and I have not since informed them.

We also made friends with a few of the guys and other girls at the low rentals. By day we often hung out in the parking lot, by night, we often were invited to a party. I met Tina at one of those parties and she told me the story of how she met her boyfriend. "I was baby sitting one night and happened to look out the window. I saw him pissing on the fence and liked what I saw so I called him over." It was that simple. They had been together a fair time. Perhaps they still are.

One day after we had met him, I broke the glove compartment door in his car that didn't work. It had barely hit the floor when he back handed me in the nose. He told me to get lost. I sat on a fence not far away and cried. The pain in my nose was nothing but I had been hurt by his hostility. He found me a few minutes later. He sat beside me and told me he was sorry for hitting me. He knew his car was destined for the junk yard but still didn't like people ripping it apart. I explained that I had only intended to open it, not rip it off. He put his arm around me and we headed back to the car where we continued to do whatever it was six kids did in a dead car in a parking lot next to a busy road.



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by Joanne B. Washington

© 2001 | the jose wombat project