Monster
Copyright© 2023 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 11
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.
“Yes,” I said. “Think you’re man enough?”
“Well, it is Friday,” Roger said.
“True ... we have the weekend.”
“Yes,” Roger grinned. “We’ll have whichever parent picks us up get some more.”
“Jumbos?” I asked.
“I suppose,” Roger said. “They’re a little tight.”
Her Other Car is a Broom was party and parcel of the conversation ... and offendedly speechless.
We had an audience ... we were the most accomplished dancers on the floor. Prople noticed and tended to keep in our vicinity. Roger is NOT known for anything but grades. He can Dance. A big plus in the bubbling stew of teenage romance is dance. One can imagine those moves in a horizontal position ... either lead or follow, top or bottom.
I am known to be in the competition for Valedictorian ... barring accidents one of us will have the second slot.
Since we were at the exit and confronted by the wicked witch of the school I was facing out. That meant my back pockets were facing in. Those few who ... for manners, religious affiliation, or shyness, had kept their eyes to their selves ... were exposed to the exposeure of the year. What ever illness I’d had, had really done a piece of work ... my ass was to die for.
We heard several, “I never’s” and quite a few slapped faces, along with, “Me ... you came with me,” and “holy shits!”
We forced our exit and, lo and behold, Roger’s daddy was parked at the curb, waiting to escort us to our rendezvous with Eros.
I must have looked shocked because he said, “You told Mrs. Blankenship three dances. What took so long?”
Miss Grundy ... not her name ... her attitude followed us out. She was determined.
“Oh my God ... you’re still here?” Mr. Blankenship said.
“Othello Blankenship!” the door guard said, “I might have known!”
The ‘Othello’ drew my eye ... and both ears.
Directly in response to my look, he said, “Otto. Please forget that other name.”
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