A few nights later we still had a lot of beers left from the banquet, so we decided to have a party and get rid of it all. By this time the other roommates gave up on the deposit, clean living, and two of their roommates. They told us to clean up and left the house for the evening.
Miles and I both lacked the organizational skills or social tact necessary to sustain a decent party, and it quickly devolved into 6 men and zero girls dancing to Steve Winwood tunes and hovering around a warm High Life keg at 3am.
By that point, we would have kissed our fathers, let alone the two homely 18 year-old girls that stumbled upon free beer, killer tunes, and a few strapping college men that treated them like mermaids on a pirate ship.
One of them was 6 feet or better, blonde, and slow witted. Her friend was even more difficult to look at. She was small, loud, gothic, and pierced all over.
We were in love.
The Goth lived with her parents in a house behind ours, so Miles and I knew no funny business was in the cards. We were hammered, but still didn’t believe they were 18.
In our opinion, dancing and hand-jobs were still within the legal limits, so we danced with them like it was prom night, and hoped for the best.
It goes without saying that fathers try to guide their sons away from exactly the sort of thing we were doing.
As drunk as I was, I knew it was gross, but we never knew how drunk these girls were until it happened.
I now ask the Powers That Be to give me with the ability to properly describe what happened when that tall, slow-witted blonde passed out.
For a moment, I return to the construction of that wacky door. It was closed at that moment, so you couldn’t see inside our room, but once you open it, three steps lead down to the room itself. So if you try to just push the bottom of it forward and don’t know about the steps, you just fall in, and the door swings back into closed position.
We were all dancing in a circle, and laughing about how much fun it was to dance while the sun rises (wow what a crappy group.) I was standing with the Goth on my left, and the Blonde on my right. As we all took a moment to notice the sun come up, the Blonde let out a giggle, and either passed out or slipped. She fell just like someone from an episode of I Love Lucy after hearing that they just tough talked a Mob Boss; she fell straight back, with her body still erect.
When everyone else stopped looking at the sun rise and returned to dancing, I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t even answer Miles or the Goth, who were now asking me were the Blonde went.
They must have asked me five times while I was still trying to catch my breath. The Goth was getting angry with me, and I could tell she suspected some foul play on my part.
They had been talking about the sun and the moment for a decent amount of time, so even Miles was sort of nervous that perhaps I would have had enough time kill the giant blonde and hide her body before they would have noticed.
By the time he started to get serious with me, I yelled out in frustration, “are you all telling me that I’m the only one that fucking saw that?”
Miles yelled, “Stop fucking around! Where the fuck is she Fever?”
I started laughing harder than before, and only managed to squeeze out the first thing I could, “she was eaten.”
As far as I was concerned, she had been eaten.
When that giant Blonde fell backward, her head hit the bottom-front of the accordion door, and the momentum of the fall carried her enough so that the rest of her body slid quietly underneath the door and down the 3 steps. The accordion door just swung back into normal position, as if no one had touched it. As all 6 feet of her slid under the door, the last thing I saw were her giant feet sliding under the door and into the room. It happened so magically fast, that the more logical explanation for her speedy disappearance was that I must have murdered her and stashed the body!
Once I gathered myself, I opened the accordion door, and revealed her whereabouts. She was sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the steps, with her hands crossed like a slumbering Egyptian Queen.
The Goth was right to see it as a sign to leave, and they both hopped the fence home.
----------------------------------------Story by John Fever, MD------------------------------------
