Tell-Tale Porn
Aug. 16th, 2007 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
create_destinyCan any amount of drugs and alcohol ever eviscerate from our memories that wretched period of our lives known as The Eighth Grade?
My family had just moved from smallish mid-western town USA to big mid-western city USA and I was bused to an inner city middle school. A hickish girl with fried, blond hair and yellow horse teeth befriended me in orchestra class. There was always an underlying threat between us that she would slash my throat in the girls' bathroom if I rejected her friendship. She lived in the one of the cracker jack houses behind the school. The first time I ever stepped foot in her house I gagged and almost puked from the horrendous stench caused by a small herd of unfixed, in-bred chihuahuas.
For Christmas, she had decided, we would exchange gifts. "You're gonna love what I got you," she said, sticking out her yellow horse teeth and grinning. For her, I had bought the sluttiest shade of "Wet 'n' Wild" lip gloss I could find: Crushed Sugar Grape. Smoking Marlboros behind the Handy Dandy on the last day of school before Christmas break, we finally exchanged gifts. I had wrapped hers up like a piece of salt-water taffy. She ripped hers open first. "Oh, cool! Lip gloss!," she blew a big cloud of smoke into the air, unscrewed the cap, smeared her lips with the shiny, purple goo and smiled really big. It made her teeth look even more yellow. "Sexy," I lied. She smacked her lips. "Now for yours." She pulled a rectangle shaped package wrapped in aluminum foil from her fringy, cowgirl purse and handed it to me. I tore it open.
It was a book. A paperback book. A paperback book of porn. A paperback book of porn she had stolen from her step-dad. "You're gonna love it," she repeated. Slightly freaked out but playing it cool, I stuffed it into my book bag and got on the bus. "Call me!," she yelled out. "I will," I lied again.
When I got home I bypassed the TV and went straight to my bedroom where I barricaded the door and pulled the shades. I turned the volume all the way up on my clock radio, sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed and opened the book. There were no pictures, only endless stories of lesbian sex acts. Lesbian sex acts between a mother and daughter. Lesbian sex acts between a mother and daughter involving carrots. At one point the mother was so overcome by sexual desire that she fell down a flight of stairs with one of the carrots in her vagina. It was quite a leap from Judy Blume's Forever. I read until I was thoroughly horrified and nearly out of my mind with paranoia. I was mortified at the thought of my parents finding this book and thinking that I was a horny lesbian who wanted to fuck my mother with vegetables. I knew I had to get rid of this book before it was discovered. The most secret place I could think of at that moment in my bedroom was the four inches of space between the tiles of the suspended ceiling and actual ceiling. I cleared off my dresser and stood on it to reach one of the tiles. I pushed a tile up and slid the book in. I tapped the tile until it fell back into place. This would have to do until I could find a way to burn it.
Every time I remembered the book it was always at an inconvenient time and eventually I forgot about the book altogether. Geography channeled the hick girl and I into different high schools. A year or so passed.
One day during my freshmen year of high school I was slammed into the memory of the book when some kid accused a girl with moles all over her face of sticking carrots up her pussy. "That's how she got all them moles," was what he said. It suddenly became so urgent to me that this book be destroyed that I promptly stuck a finger down my throat and barfed behind the bleachers in gym class in order to leave school early under conditions that would not be scrutinized. My plan was to retrieve the book and dispose of it in an alley dumpster six blocks from our house.
It was 1:00 in the afternoon. No one would be home, so I knew it was the perfect time. When I got home I hurled my backpack across the living room and sprinted up the stairs to my bedroom. I remembered exactly which tile I had moved to hide the book. Standing again on my dresser, I pushed the tile up and felt around for it. It wasn't there! I got a flashlight from the hall closet and peered into the dusty space between the ceiling tiles. There was nothing there! Nothing but cobwebs! It was gone!
I sat on my bed in shock and tried to think above the roaring static in my head. How could this be?!?! How could this book just disappear?!? I was sure that my parents had found it and were entirely too scandalized to confront me with it. Clearly suicide, I thought, was my only option. But how? I went into the bathroom and began pulling items from the medicine cabinet. Hang myself with a gauze? Swallow band-aids? Electrocute myself in the tub with a curling iron? Stab myself in the heart with some tweezers? Slash my wrists with my Dad's electric shaver?
I had started to wrap an ace bandage around my neck when I heard the front door slam open. It was my twelve year-old sister, Karma, home from school. Of course! It had to be her who took the book! She's was always snooping around in my bedroom, breaking into my Nancy Drew diary and stealing my stuff. I flew down the stairs and grabbed her by the shirt collar. "Where is it?" I screamed and pumped my fist. Her eyes flashed with shock. "Where's what?," she gasped. "You know," I hissed, "Now where is it?!" I could tell by the wild look in her eyes that she didn't know what I was talking about, but still I had to be sure. I wrestled her face-down into the carpet and stuck my chin hard between her shoulder blades. "Where'd you put it? Huh?!? Huh?!?" "I don't know what you're talking about," she winced. I was screwed. If she knew, she was certain to bribe me and eventually rat me out to Mom and Dad. And if she didn't know, then where the hell was it?
"God!" I rolled off of her, catching my breath. "You're such a lesbian! A horny, stupid lesbian!" I sneered. "You're a lesbian!," she huffed back. She probably didn't even know what that meant. I turned to her and squinted my eyes. "I know you masturbate with carrots," I said slowly, "I've seen you do it." "You're disgusting!", she snarled. I kicked her in the leg with my heel. "If you say anything to Mom and Dad I'm going to tell everyone that you're a gay lesbian!" "Gah!," she huffed and stood up, "You're such a psycho! A gay lesbian psycho!"
Years later, when we were best friends, I asked her about that book. She claims she never saw it, never knew anything about. We just cracked up about it. I know she would have told me by then if she had taken it. Last fall I told my parents this story and they said they never saw it, never knew anything about it. The whereabouts of this book still remain a mystery to this day.
My family had just moved from smallish mid-western town USA to big mid-western city USA and I was bused to an inner city middle school. A hickish girl with fried, blond hair and yellow horse teeth befriended me in orchestra class. There was always an underlying threat between us that she would slash my throat in the girls' bathroom if I rejected her friendship. She lived in the one of the cracker jack houses behind the school. The first time I ever stepped foot in her house I gagged and almost puked from the horrendous stench caused by a small herd of unfixed, in-bred chihuahuas.
For Christmas, she had decided, we would exchange gifts. "You're gonna love what I got you," she said, sticking out her yellow horse teeth and grinning. For her, I had bought the sluttiest shade of "Wet 'n' Wild" lip gloss I could find: Crushed Sugar Grape. Smoking Marlboros behind the Handy Dandy on the last day of school before Christmas break, we finally exchanged gifts. I had wrapped hers up like a piece of salt-water taffy. She ripped hers open first. "Oh, cool! Lip gloss!," she blew a big cloud of smoke into the air, unscrewed the cap, smeared her lips with the shiny, purple goo and smiled really big. It made her teeth look even more yellow. "Sexy," I lied. She smacked her lips. "Now for yours." She pulled a rectangle shaped package wrapped in aluminum foil from her fringy, cowgirl purse and handed it to me. I tore it open.
It was a book. A paperback book. A paperback book of porn. A paperback book of porn she had stolen from her step-dad. "You're gonna love it," she repeated. Slightly freaked out but playing it cool, I stuffed it into my book bag and got on the bus. "Call me!," she yelled out. "I will," I lied again.
When I got home I bypassed the TV and went straight to my bedroom where I barricaded the door and pulled the shades. I turned the volume all the way up on my clock radio, sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed and opened the book. There were no pictures, only endless stories of lesbian sex acts. Lesbian sex acts between a mother and daughter. Lesbian sex acts between a mother and daughter involving carrots. At one point the mother was so overcome by sexual desire that she fell down a flight of stairs with one of the carrots in her vagina. It was quite a leap from Judy Blume's Forever. I read until I was thoroughly horrified and nearly out of my mind with paranoia. I was mortified at the thought of my parents finding this book and thinking that I was a horny lesbian who wanted to fuck my mother with vegetables. I knew I had to get rid of this book before it was discovered. The most secret place I could think of at that moment in my bedroom was the four inches of space between the tiles of the suspended ceiling and actual ceiling. I cleared off my dresser and stood on it to reach one of the tiles. I pushed a tile up and slid the book in. I tapped the tile until it fell back into place. This would have to do until I could find a way to burn it.
Every time I remembered the book it was always at an inconvenient time and eventually I forgot about the book altogether. Geography channeled the hick girl and I into different high schools. A year or so passed.
One day during my freshmen year of high school I was slammed into the memory of the book when some kid accused a girl with moles all over her face of sticking carrots up her pussy. "That's how she got all them moles," was what he said. It suddenly became so urgent to me that this book be destroyed that I promptly stuck a finger down my throat and barfed behind the bleachers in gym class in order to leave school early under conditions that would not be scrutinized. My plan was to retrieve the book and dispose of it in an alley dumpster six blocks from our house.
It was 1:00 in the afternoon. No one would be home, so I knew it was the perfect time. When I got home I hurled my backpack across the living room and sprinted up the stairs to my bedroom. I remembered exactly which tile I had moved to hide the book. Standing again on my dresser, I pushed the tile up and felt around for it. It wasn't there! I got a flashlight from the hall closet and peered into the dusty space between the ceiling tiles. There was nothing there! Nothing but cobwebs! It was gone!
I sat on my bed in shock and tried to think above the roaring static in my head. How could this be?!?! How could this book just disappear?!? I was sure that my parents had found it and were entirely too scandalized to confront me with it. Clearly suicide, I thought, was my only option. But how? I went into the bathroom and began pulling items from the medicine cabinet. Hang myself with a gauze? Swallow band-aids? Electrocute myself in the tub with a curling iron? Stab myself in the heart with some tweezers? Slash my wrists with my Dad's electric shaver?
I had started to wrap an ace bandage around my neck when I heard the front door slam open. It was my twelve year-old sister, Karma, home from school. Of course! It had to be her who took the book! She's was always snooping around in my bedroom, breaking into my Nancy Drew diary and stealing my stuff. I flew down the stairs and grabbed her by the shirt collar. "Where is it?" I screamed and pumped my fist. Her eyes flashed with shock. "Where's what?," she gasped. "You know," I hissed, "Now where is it?!" I could tell by the wild look in her eyes that she didn't know what I was talking about, but still I had to be sure. I wrestled her face-down into the carpet and stuck my chin hard between her shoulder blades. "Where'd you put it? Huh?!? Huh?!?" "I don't know what you're talking about," she winced. I was screwed. If she knew, she was certain to bribe me and eventually rat me out to Mom and Dad. And if she didn't know, then where the hell was it?
"God!" I rolled off of her, catching my breath. "You're such a lesbian! A horny, stupid lesbian!" I sneered. "You're a lesbian!," she huffed back. She probably didn't even know what that meant. I turned to her and squinted my eyes. "I know you masturbate with carrots," I said slowly, "I've seen you do it." "You're disgusting!", she snarled. I kicked her in the leg with my heel. "If you say anything to Mom and Dad I'm going to tell everyone that you're a gay lesbian!" "Gah!," she huffed and stood up, "You're such a psycho! A gay lesbian psycho!"
Years later, when we were best friends, I asked her about that book. She claims she never saw it, never knew anything about. We just cracked up about it. I know she would have told me by then if she had taken it. Last fall I told my parents this story and they said they never saw it, never knew anything about it. The whereabouts of this book still remain a mystery to this day.
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 04:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 12:29 pm (UTC)Great story. The mystery would nearly drive me crazy, but not gay lesbian psycho crazy, so there's that...
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 12:42 pm (UTC)Oh, you crack me up!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 12:33 pm (UTC)porn
Date: 2007-08-17 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 03:16 pm (UTC)What became of the hickish girl with fried, blond hair and yellow horse teeth? Have you ever heard of her again?
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 04:17 pm (UTC)Wow, that takes me back. Pure pubescent scandal!
Great story.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 09:36 pm (UTC)wow, no more reading those cartoonish "where did i come from books" for me, or that silly one that diagramed puberty and bowel movements within such promixity.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:35 am (UTC)Y.A. "porn", that's hilarious. I missed that book. I would have been thrilled to read a book that had a bonifide "boner" in it instead of a bunch of carrots.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 11:41 pm (UTC)http://www.amazon.com/Up-Seths-Room-Norma-Mazer/dp/0440991900
i totally had to buy a copy for a $1.00
ooh, i can remember it already, kinda, actually i only remember the "steamy parts" they were painting his room and all the exertion and those toxic fumes-went straight to their heads to their loins!!!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-17 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 12:01 am (UTC)You rock my socks. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-19 04:36 am (UTC)i never even saw porn until this year. i used to go out with my uncle's girlfriend, a porn star, and also hung out and watched indie films with a pornographer, but i never really had an interest in it until this year i idly surfed youporn.com. haha.
thanks for the add. i'll add you back. ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-08-19 06:27 am (UTC)Porn actually freaks me out. I'm such a prude, I know.
I love the "coffee, lingering on my tongue" thing you wrote that was recently featured on
no subject
Date: 2007-08-19 06:33 am (UTC)danke, i appreciate that. i was surprised mengus posted it; i didn't think anyone would "get" it. it's a very personal memory, and i was just writing to myself, to remember.