It started out a fairly normal Friday night...

[prodigalson]

Me and a couple buddies had gone out to Blue Lake to listen to the music, get drunk and try to find some girls. How it got to this I couldn’t tell.

Baby powder. I was drowning in baby powder and couldn’t get away. A terrible dream. I was only too happy to wake but the waking was worse. It seemed as if the dream continued; even though I knew I was now awake I remained trapped, immobile, unable to move away from the baby powder choking me, filling my eyes, ears, nose, throat.

I couldn’t feel my left arm and wondered if it was gone in the darkness until the great mass upon it drew a deep breath and sighed, sending rivulets of talc cascading down. I froze like a deer in the headlights. Who was this? My whiskey saturated brain tried, behind the hammering going on in my head, to remember.

A crowded smokey bar room. An angelic face. A heart-stoppingly beautiful, makes-you-melt-just-looking-at-her type of face, on top of the most perfectly round figure I had ever seen.

“But she’s fat!” Jim said.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I must have her.”

Then I was leading her across the street to my truck. Jim followed along: “You don’t want to do this, Steve. You don’t want to do this. Come on back in, I’ll buy you a drink. C’mon, we just got here…”

I shook him off and got in my truck with m’lady.

It was hazy but it was all I had. I gently began working my arm, trying to get some life back into it. With a great heaving sigh she rolled over towards me, engulfing me in those huge warm bread loaves between her arms. A fresh cascade of baby powder created more clouds, choking me anew.

In the instant she had lifted a surge of fresh blood entered my arm, stirring it back to life. Now it was pinned and tingling, pins and needles but I was afraid if I pulled it out too quickly I’d wake her completely and then where would I be?

Face mashed into her pillowy prison, I could hear her muffled voice: “You’re not leaving yet, are you?" Her grip tightened. I felt like a (pardon the analogy) hot dog in a bun. Wrapping my other arm as far around her as I could, I reassured her, “No,no.”

It seemed like hours before she was fully asleep again. Gently I began working my dead arm out from under her. It takes a while to incrementally ease an arm all the way out from under a yard of woman (metre for you Limeys). I was out but for the fingers when she awoke again. “Where are you going, hmmm?”

I responded with the only answer I thought would satisfy her. “I'm bringing you a cheeseburger from right up the road." She smiled, eyes still closed and I snuck out the door.

I had no clue where I was. It was pouring rain, visibility was about a block and I recognized nothing. I didn’t care – I was getting out of there. I walked about and finally found my truck in a carport. Soaking wet, I jumped in and turned the key. Nothing. Turned it again. Nothing. I felt for the headlight switch. It was on and had been all night. I thought about going back in. No. Wild horses and all that. I’d push start it.

I was on perfectly flat ground. Had the truck been warm or there been even a little charge in the battery I probably could have done it but there wasn’t and it wasn’t and after seven or eight trips back and forth up and down that maddenly flat drive in the pouring rain I finally fetched up against the fender, pouring sweat in the pouring rain, steam billowing from my lungs and rising from my body, nearly in tears from frustration, knowing I would have to go back in that room.

No I wouldn’t. I fished around in my sodden pockets for change. I’d find a phone booth and call for help. My buddy Jim, the one from the bar, answered on about the fifteenth ring. “You gotta help me,” I told him. “My battery’s dead and I can’t push start the thing. You gotta come give me a jump or just get me out of here.”

There was a long silence during which I could hear feminine noises. “You know I’ve got a girl over here,” he finally said. “I told you …”

“Jim,” I said, suddenly much more undrunk, “if you ever wanted to be a friend to someone, now’s the time. Please come get me.” He was there in twenty minutes (that’s a friend). We jump-started the truck and hauled ass. I never did figure out what all the baby powder was for but for thirty-five years the smell of it has reminded me of hamburgers and downpours.

[oettinger]

Coke Coke coke

Great 2nd post, why don`t you introduce yourself on the board. You must be a cousin of Dearbooze`s?
He also is reluctant but one of the GOAT story tellers around here.


Back to topic:
This reminds me of a friends mishap. He got drunk, slept with a girl and took a drunken dump in her bed trainspotting style.
He left quietly in the morning, only to notice he left his wallet in her bedroom...

[prodigalson]

I have finally found the introductory thread, and posted therein.

Drinks are awaiting.

[oldsmartskunk]

I loved your tale as much i as love fat girls. A lot. "It started out a fairly normal Friday night..." Nonsense. It was a fairly normal Friday night. A good night. "Old man and the sea" type of night - you got a man and his harpoon against a whale.

[mistah willies]

Next time,

Roll her in confectioners sugar to find the wet spot.






It's called a Berliner. It truly is.


.

[prodigalson]

I suspected that was the purpose of the baby powder, but there was too damn much of it.