Of course, just starting out, you often have to make do (and by “make do” I mean lots of canned food, ramen noodles, and an apartment about the size of a VW Bug).
*Side note: Okay, I’ll stop doing the parenthesis (and by…) thing. It’s good for a smile or an occasional chuckle, but it wears thin after a while (and by “thin” I mean…)…Shit, the (and by…) thing is like a drug of some kind. Hopefully, I can get through the rest of this without going into withdrawals.*
Anyway, my wife and I were starting out by making do. Oddly enough, the shoebox we were making do in was below another similarly sized shoebox inhabited by none other than Julia Snobdeface (Yes, a fake name. Fame has not yet compensated me monetarily enough to withstand even a mild lawsuit).
I knew Julia from high school. She was two years younger than I and, as her fake last name would imply, she was a princess. Apparently, being humbled by living in an apartment the size of a Tupperware container did little to nothing to extinguish her naturally haughty demeanor (hey, extra points for me for using the term “haughty demeanor” –I think I even used it correctly).
But if her living conditions had no effect on her narcissistic personality, one would think that her boyfriend would. We weren’t sure what his name was, but we assumed he was of the same privileged background because of his pricey car and clothing, but more because of his nose which was raised so high that he risked drowning in a hard rain. Since we had no name to refer to him by, we gave him a Native American name based upon his visits to Julia’s apartment: Screwemandrun. The name was not without merit. His typical visit went something like this: Show up. Engage in limited chit-chat. Engage in very quick sex. Run down the stairs to his car and be gone, gone, gone. We could tell all this because when you’re “making do” you generally have to do it in a place with walls and ceilings made of construction paper and Elmer’s.
We were impressed by his agility in navigating the stairs, but even more impressed by his speed in…other areas. Although we were impressed, we also thought his routine might be a bit unfair to young Julia. I didn’t plan the next part out per se. It just kind of happened organically.
I slowed Screwemandrun down.
My wife and I retired early. As we settled in, books in hand, we heard Screwemandrun ascend the stairs and knock on Julia’s door. My wife and I exchanged looks, knowing the great auditory treat we were in for.
We heard the door shut and muffled conversation –which lasted all of about ten minutes. Then there was a momentary silence before the sound that can only come from a very weary mattress with aging springs.
It sounded like something between a squeak and an over-weary Wal-Mart greeter sighing between “Welcomes.” And it was rhythmic. And it was growing faster.
That’s when the idea hit me.
I jumped from bed, raced for the phone and phone book and called Julia Snobdeface.
Here’s the best part: the squeaking noise stopped and she answered the phone! Of course, when she answered I hung up and laughed maniacally at my successful prank.
Within three minutes they started again…and again I jumped out of bed and called her…and again she answered!
This went on a total of four times. You can’t make stuff like this up. The last time I tried to call she didn’t answer. I should point out that she also wasn’t able to connect the dots and realize it was someone calling who could hear them and their mouse-like noises. They lasted another two minutes, we heard muffled talk, and then he scrambled down the stairs and jetted away again.
Did I feel bad? Did a little guilt creep in because of my behavior?
Not a drop.
I looked upon it as a favor to Julia. She ended up with almost 20 minutes of sex instead of the usual five. Although it was interrupted sex, it was a longer session than we’d ever heard before.
Perhaps it left her wanting. After a couple of weeks and a few more visits Screwemandrun stopped coming over. We’d heard that she’d broken it off with him. We felt a sense of relief at not having to endure the Screwemandrun cycle anymore.
But then the regular slumber parties with about 12 teenaged girls began.
Julia Snobdeface apparently became celibate, but she did so in a 14-year-old girl way.
To be honest, I began to miss Screwemandrun and his speedy rituals. They weren’t any less annoying, but they ended much, much quicker.
Maybe I should have gotten to know his name so I could have helped those two lovebirds get back together.
Live and learn.
Please, be considerate of your neighbors, but more importantly…