Ok … I just remembered what has to be my most memorable stoner story of all time. Only the last portion of the full story involves getting high but the first part has to be told because it makes the last part even better plus it is funny as hell now that I think back about it. When I tell the story I call it "The Date From Hell."
The summer between junior and senior year in high school I was dating a beautiful blonde girl who was a between her freshman and sophomore year and who did a fair bit of modeling for things like JC Penny’s catalogs and Marshall Field’s catalogs and calendars for local businesses and things like that. Nothing major but still she was beautiful enough to get a lot of that type/level of work.
Naturally I wanted to play hide the weenie with her but she was a total PRUDE. If I went for anything beyond just kissing and I’d get a sharp NO! So being the caring sensitive guy I am, beautiful or not I dumped her.
When the senior prom was getting close she tried to get me interested in her again but I wasn’t going to waste that night just kissing. Then she told me that she was ready, that she wanted to have sex for the first time so naturally I asked her to the prom.
I had recently bought my first brand new car, a 1973 Dodge Challenger. It was red with a white vinyl top and white vinyl interior. I kept it clean but I wanted it to be perfect for that night so I not only washed and waxed it and did a normal interior cleaning but instead I removed all the seats and the center console and shampooed the entire carpet and cleaned the seats and after everything was dry I put it all back into the car and it was cleaner and shinier than the day I picked it up at the dealership.
I picked up my date and she was stunning in a powder blue formal and she was the ultimate image of perfection. We did the dance thing and then headed off for dinner. I had found a restaurant that would serve underage kids who showed up in formal attire beer or wine so of course we went there. I wanted her well lubricated in more than just one way, I did not want her backing out on what she had promised.
We split a bottle of wine with dinner, actually I drank about two thirds of it, and then we headed back to the suburbs to what I expected to be a night in Heaven. After being on the highway about five miles she reached over and began to explore things. I thought this is nice. Then she smiled real big and leaned over and as her face got close to the area of my lap she coughed a couple of times and then sat upright and began spewing like Buckingham Fountain.
I was of course in the far left lane so in something right out of some low budget teen movie I shot across the two lanes to my right causing other cars to swerve and hit their brakes and I came to a quick stop off on the shoulder of the road. I got out and raced around the car and opened her door and she turned her head and hurled all over my brand new shoes.
I got her out of my car and she was crawling around on the grass beside the road sicker than a poisoned dog. As she deposited what little was left of the dinner I just bought for her on the grass I removed the floor mat from my car and shook the chunks off and let as much of the goo drip off as possible and wiped it on the grass and then put it in my trunk. I had several towels in my trunk and I used them to clean up as much of the rest of her dinner as I could and then put them back in the trunk.
About then I began to think it might be a good idea to get back on the road before a cop spotted us so I grabbed her and almost had to carry her and poured her into my car. While driving she was still having the dry heaves and I was thinking I can’t take her to the motel were several of us had split the cost of a room because it would really ruin things for the others so I had to come up with some place that was safe to take her so she could come out of her coma and at least somewhat clean herself up. Then it hit me, the place that I believed to be perfect.
One of my friend’s family owned a funeral home and they lived upstairs and they never locked their back door so I knew I could take her there and use the office that had both a men’s room and a ladies room. We got there and I drug her into the office and into the ladies room and left her on her knees in front of the toilet, which I could not help but think at the time that had we not shared a bottle of wine she would at that time instead be on her knees in front of me instead of a toilet in the office of a funeral home.
I figured that I should go upstairs and let my friend know we were there so if they heard any noise from her having the dry heaves or bouncing off the walls and furniture like a ball in a pinball machine the parents would not come down or just call the cops and say someone is in our funeral home, come check it out.
My friend came back down with me and for close to two hours we sat there as she went back and forth between the bathroom and a couch she was lying on. By now she was a TOTAL MESS! Her mascara had run down her face in black streams and much of the rest of her makeup had been wiped or washed off and her hair looked like Phyllis Diller’s hair on a bad hair day. For those to young to know who Phyllis Diller is just imagine how the girl’s hair might have looked if she had held her head out of my car’s window for the whole trip home while I drove at around 70mph. Her beautiful powder blue formal was stained from what had once been her dinner and there were grass stains on the lower portion from her crawling around on all fours while hurling. In short what had earlier been one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen had become totally repulsive.
I had reached the limit of my endurance and told her that I was going to take her home. She cried and begged me to not take her home because she was horrified of what her parents would do. At that point I didn’t care in the least what happened to her, I just wanted the date to end so I could then move on to something far more enjoyable, which at that point even a root canal job would have been more enjoyable to me. She said it was not to late to do the deed and tried to convince me to poke her on the couch in the office of the funeral home. I thought what a wonderful memory that would leave for her to remember for the rest of her life, to have had her cherry popped while she was sick as a dog and looked almost as bad as what had been shooting out of her mouth and for it to happen of all places in the office of a funeral home.
After considering that my first thought was what do I care what her memories will be, if she would even be able to remember the event. I figured as long as I got to fire off my heat seeking moisture missile it would be good for me and I even figured that with her still having the dry heaves when she had the strong convulsions with each dry heave she would likely really squeeze down hard on my crank and that might be really good. Well I looked at her closely and talked it over with my small head and the two of us decided that regardless of what seemed like it might be good she was just to repulsive looking and odoriferous to go through with it so I decided I would take her home regardless of her begging and pleading me not to.
I got to her home and again it was like something right out of a movie, it was somewhat similar to the scene in "Animal House" where one guy, I believe the character’s name was "Otter," left the daughter of the Dean to his college on the front lawn in a shopping cart.
I half carried her to her front door and leaned her against her house and straightened her legs trying to lock her knees so she might be able to stand long enough for someone to come and get her inside and then in what is likely the classiest thing I have ever done when it comes to women I rang the doorbell and ran as fast as I could. I dove into my Challenger and got that 340 wound out and set a new world’s speed record getting the hell out of Dodge.
Before leaving the funeral home my friend told me to come back after I had dumped her because he had something for us to do so I went home and changed and went back to the funeral home. It turned out what he had for us to do was to go to O’Hare Airport and pick up a body.
I had never helped him pick up a body before and while I had expected to be dealing with something stiff that night I never imagined it would end up being a dead body. Of course we got high on the way to the airport and then again on the way back after picking up the stiff. Part way home we got the munchies and decided to stop somewhere to get something to eat. It was late enough that not much was open so we decided to hit a Denny’s that was one town past ours.
My friend was worried that someone might steal the body from the station wagon we were using and thought we should drive around and hope to find a drive-thru or skip getting something to eat but he felt much better about it when we lucked out and got a parking place right in front of the door.
We went in and the little sign that on one side says please seat yourself and on the other says please wait to be seated said please wait to be seated. A man came over and asked if there would just be the two of us and if we preferred a table or a booth. We said it was just the two of us and either a table or a booth would be fine. He said it would just be a few moments and off he went. After standing there a while we noticed that there were several tables and booths open in the main portion of the restaurant and wondered why we were not given one of them and instead had to wait.
Directly in front of the door on the end of the restaurant there were I believe four booths and they were all full. While looking at them I saw a girl’s head slowly peek up over the top of one of the booths and she stared at us a moment and then slowly lowered her head again. We waited and waited and more people left and more tables opened up and more people came and they were seated right away and every now and then I would see the same girl peeking over the top of the booth she was in or around the side of the booth she was in and stare at us a moment and then slowly pull her had back in.
The booth next to the one the girl was in opened up and as soon as the table had been cleaned we were led there and we sat down and began picking what we wanted to eat from the menu. The girl again slowly raised her head over the top of the booth and stared at us and after slowly lowering her head again we heard her tell her boyfriend "see, I told you they would put them here, they put all of us here."
It then became apparent to me that the host, and the girl, easily spotted that we were very well baked and evidently what the host did was segregate stoners and drunks from the decent people and only put them at the few booths off to the side.
We finished our meal and then took the stiff to the funeral home and deposited her in the basement morgue and I headed home for the night.
So while I had expectations of popping the cherry of a teen beauty queen that night I instead ended up with a stinky smelly car and wasting hours with a sloppy drunk repulsive mess of a girl and picking up my first dead body, Mable Ness, (Yes even after all these years I can still remember her name. As they say you never forget your first) and then being segregated at Denny’s because I was stoned out of my mind.
What later came as even more of an amazement to me is for some inexplicable reason the girl seemed to be somewhat upset at me and was rather nasty to me after that night. To this day I have never managed to figure out why.
Women! Who can understand them? I have to believe that W. C. Fields was correct when he said "No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it's only a question of degree."
P.S. My friend whose family owned the funeral home was the same friend I mentioned when I told the story about us going skiing and then totally missing Illinois on our return trip. We shared many an adventure over the years.
(never thought I'd say that)
