Hello there! Sorry it has taken me so long to post my first Fact or Fiction. My internet connection crapped out and I was only able to get on the computer sporadically. That and I had about a billion other things going on, but when in doubt, blame the internet! It's all your fault nameless, faceless bundle of wires and cables!
Here is your first Fact or Fiction game. To refresh your memory: the following story is either a true life event from my own past, or it is completely made up. If it is a true event, the dialog is as accurate as I remember, but these things may be up to 30 years old, so I'll do the best I can. One thing I might do is change names. Only a couple of my "in real life" friends read this blog, but you never know. Might as well protect the innocent. Vote on whether you think the entry is fact or fiction. I still haven't decided about prizes. Maybe just the pride of knowing you are right will be enough. Thinking about it. Without further ado......
FACT? OR FICTION? (some adult content)
I can tell you exactly what day it was that I spent the night at Otto's, because I remember he gave Jonny his first mohawk. It was also the day that Jonny committed what was almost certainly a felony, probably not his first, certainly not his last.
I don't know how old those girls were, the ones who came wandering by and ended up staying all night, but my guess is they had an awful lot to talk about the next day at school. I imagine them, pausing to smoke a cigarette while running cross country; passing it around, taking drags and giggling about how they were Very Bad Girls.
I wasn't a part of that, though I do believe it played a role in my evening's events. My plumbing was busted at my house and I hadn't taken a shower in days. Peeing outdoors was nothing new to me, but I was getting tired of watching the curtains twitch every time I stepped into the backyard. My boy next door was a creepy voyeur. It made sense, then, to stay at Otto's for a while. We worked at the same place, so we could drive in together, and even though I knew he was a dirty bastard, I also knew how to handle him.
Otto, Jonny, and the random girls drank all day. I held back, knowing that I'd need my sobriety to keep things in check later on. I brought my most puritanical sleepwear with me, a long black number that stretched from my neck to my ankles. It was still no surprise that despite my Amish getup, Otto's hand crept over to my side of the bed that night.
"I'm sorry. Do you know who I am?" I snapped, and his hand slunk away, leaving a trail of guilt as slimy as a slug's.
All night, I heard the grunting and squealing coming through the wall that separated Jonny's room from mine. I had pegged the first girl as a real whore, but I had figured her friend would be all talk and no action. Apparently I was wrong. They were both all in. Otto had to have heard them too.
The next morning we went to work. Otto didn't speak to me all day. I was somewhat surprised. Surely he'd been shot down before? He hadn't honestly thought I would sleep with him did he? For god's sake, he was married! Sure, she was never around, but I had never made any secret of the fact that I didn't screw married men. Period.
At the end of the day, Otto dropped me off at my house. "I don't think you should stay with me anymore."
"Are you serious? Because I wouldn't sleep with you? Fine. Asshole." I grabbed my bag and threw open the car door. I had one foot on the pavement before he stopped me, his hand catching my arm.
"Wait. What are you talking about? We did fuck. We're obviously not compatible, and I don't think you should stay at my house."
"Excuse me? No we fucking did not fuck. Not even close. What the hell are you talking about?"
Otto was under the impression that we had had a pretty lame tumble in the sack. I quickly disabused him of that notion.
"Okay, number one, I do not sleep with married men, so we did not have sex last night. And number two, it would not have been lame. I'm fucking awesome. Ask around. So what the hell?"
We went back to his house to investigate. It took a while, but we solved the mystery. In the kitchen, we found an empty can of Pringles. Well, empty except for the glob of white stuff in the bottom. Apparently when Otto drinks, not only does he have very vivid dreams, he also sleepwalks.
I stayed there for a few more days, but I slept on the floor. I also never ate Pringles again.
What would you have done? - I chugged out of NYC on Friday to attend Malice Domestic, a lovely reader convention that is now the place I catch up with old friends, make new ones, and ...
7 hours ago