Chapter 10

It will come as no surprise to most of the readers that this is not only fiction but bald faced lies. The author has been known to stretch the truth past breaking. He is fully aware that Monster Millions is his own creation and does not exist in reality. He is also cognizant of the fact that this an alternate reality. The names might be real ... the people are not. If your name is in here ... it’s not you ... any of you.

Before his mother could teach him to dance, Roger had to have stitches. 13 of ‘em. It was just a ‘scratch,’ his dad said.

He lied.

Roger had a truly awsome scar ... a Purple Heart worthy facial scar a combat veteran would be proud to call his own. It wasn’t Heidelburg dueling class but ... in its own right ... it was pretty damn cool. Had Roger had one of those haircuts popular with the military and mothers in the late 50’s or early 60’s, no power on earth could have hidden the ‘knitting.’ Fortunately, Roger was stuck in the late 60’s. It was battle royal when the hair stuck up in a ‘cowlick.’

“You need a haircut,” his mom said.

“I don’t.” Roger had said. “I want to see what my hirsute proclivities are.”

“I don’t like it,” she said.

The settlement of the argument has been Roger telling his mom, “When you pay the barber you can choose.”

Roger had a grand-uncle established Trust Fund. Even with the clubbed ponytail, he was presentable. The comb-over worked it’s charm.

Horror of horrors ... I didn’t dance.

In class, I mentioned that to Roger.

“Come over, since I’ll be dancing with you ... mom can teach us together,” Roger didn’t want to admit that mom gave him a woodie.

By Friday, we could medium jitterbug ... and bounce ... together. We could two-step and sort of clog. For the slow songs we could cling and shuffle. Mrs. Blankenship took me aside and asked what my intentions were.

“I intend to dance three times and take your son home. He’ll have breakfast in the morning. Daddy will drive him, or we can walk through the woods.” I left the fact that the woods meant he’d be home a little after dark unsaid.

“You’re serious,” she said.

I nodded.

“You need protection.”

“I’m on the pill, but, I’ve seen the movie.”

She slipped me five condoms.

Friday came ... we won.

After the game I went home, and changed clothes. I had seen a similar outfit on a young woman when we turned down the wrong street in the Metropolis during our shopping jaunt.

A large loose bandana tied at neck and back and extremely short cutoff jean shorts with a modesty panel front making a skirt of the shorts. The bandana was thin ... the shorts were frayed and the slippers completed the outfit. From the front, the outfit was acceptable ... from the back it was outrageous. The white back pockets advertised that the cheeks exposed were perfect. The bandana top slipped several times.

The dance was a sock hop. No hard soles on the maple floor.

The signs posted at every exit:

IF YOU LEAVE THE BUILDING
YOU WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO RETURN.

Perfect.

I do realize that the signs were for those who imbibe and smoke.

But...

When we tried the assorted entrances and other exits we were both surprised to find them locked and CHAINED.

I suppose the locks were for people ... the chains were for Artie Wilson. I know Art has a complete set of keys ... to most of the town ... I’ve seen them. He also knows the combination to every student locker, here and junior high ... little locksmith/safecracker is Artie.

So ... we exited at the Gym doors.

We approached the double double exit ... the town council has a motto ... slow ‘em down on the way in ... expedite their departure. Speed limit is 30 entering and 45 leaving.

Miss Her other Car is a Broom has been the gym door guard since Noah grounded the Ark ... and she blocked the way.

“Miss Podstuka ... Mr. Blankenship.”

Gimlet eye suggested ... no ... demanded ... we return to the safety of the school.

I said, “I’m taking him home for breakfast.”

“Now?”

“Tomorrow ... when we get out of bed.”

“What!” She shrieked it, insuring all eyes whould be aware of our mission.

“I’m going to use all ten ‘French Safes.”

Roger blushed, turned and said, “Ten?”

“Yes, five from my mother and five from yours.”

“What are we going to do with the five daddy gave me?”

EXEUNT: STAGE CENTER.

Applause.