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December 13, 2004
Watching Many Movies in One Night
Just about every time I see Emma she asks me if I have a DVD player. Sometimes she doesn't ask me and I realize things seem a bit off-kilter without the question. So I tell her someone gave me a TV. This is her cue to ask me about the DVD player. She knows this; it's her part of our routine. (Routine as in comedy routine, not same-old same-old routine, because it makes us both think we are very witty.)
(She also frequently asks me about feeding kittens to ATMs.) After I say "yes," she says, "Good, because I have some movies I want you to watch."
Watching more than one movie in one night is what my mom calls a "movie orgy." Yes, frenquently as a child my mother would ask her children if they wanted to have orgies with her - movie orgies. These were special occasions because we didn't have a VCR - my parents never got a VCR until well after I left home - we would have to rent a VCR with the movies.
A couple years ago I was asked to an orgy. Not a movie orgy. The type of orgy that comes immediately to mind when hearing the word. Actually I was asked to host an orgy.
I lived in a village on the island of Terceira (Azores, Portugal) and went to a party with some co-workers. We got a little drunk and crashed a family gathering next door because they had a huge spread of food and 10-liter jugs of wine tempting us every time we looked over the fence to see if no one was there to catch us trying to snag some of the goodies.
I should say our intent was to crash the party, but hospitality being what it is there we were invited over before we could sneak over.
At the party we ate squid, pickled octopus, fried pork sandwiches, beans of all sorts, drank wine and met dozens of teenage boys in the family along with their friends. I remember two names: Frankie and 69.
Frankie was older than all the other boys - 18. He was called Frankie because his given name was Francisco and Frankie was shorter and cooler sounding. Still, he was somewhat less cool than the other boys because he was older and still a virgin. Frankie the Virgin they also called him. The rest all called each other 69. 69 because that's what they did with girls (What did they do with the boys? Well, nudge each other when saying that they 69ed the girls, of course). Each 16-year-old 69 would, when called 69, blush and deny that's what he was called, passing the buck to another 16-year-old sort of like kids do in the cookie jar song.
Frankie and the 69s took to me because I lived just down the street and because I had a car. An old Plymouth Horizon that stalled every time I stepped on the clutch and had to roll start at every intersection. The car I had to park on hillls in order to get started because simply turning the ingition key was not enough. The boys stopped by my house frequently on their way to drink beers at the local social clubs. Sometimes I would offer them beers at my house.
They always stayed in my living room and marvelled at the fact that I lived alone in a house filled with furniture that looked like it was stolen from some cheap hotel. Actually, since their were no hotels to speak of on the island I don't suppose they would have thought the furniture looked hotel-like. Instead it was likely extremely exotic and American looking to them. I got them beers from my kitchen.
"Wow. You live here alone?"
"Yeah."
"And you have such nice furniture."
"Oh? Really? Thanks."
"You have a lot of bedrooms?"
"Three, but I use one as an office."
"That's a lot of bedrooms. Good for the 69."
One time I remember them stopping by on the way to a movie and they asked me to come along. On the way we talked a bit.
"You live alone?"
"Yeah. I told you that."
"Do you party?"
"Of course I party. Don't you remember I met you guys at a party?"
"Yeah, but do you like to party?"
"Yes. I like to party."
"You go to parties or you have parties at your house?"
"Both. I guess. I go to more parties, but sometimes I have parties at my house."
"Yes. Ok."
"'Ok' what?"
"We'll have a party at your house, ok?"
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."
"An orgy party. One girl for everyone."
"What?"
"Ok. Two for you since it is your house."
"That's more like it."
I was convinced they weren't serious and the conversation was dismissed: it was forgotten about until a few weeks later when they came over to my house.
"Sorry. No beer guys. I've got to meet some people."
"No problem. We just came to remind you about the orgy party. Tomorrow is OK?"
"Orgy party?"
"Yes, remember we asked about the orgy party? If tomorrow is not OK then another day, but tomorrow would be better because we've found the sluts -- two for you like you asked."
I got a little uneasy. These guys were serious. They want to have an orgy in my house. What is the age of consent. I don't want to get hit with two counts...
Still, I was pretty sure they weren't serious. Or maybe they were, but who actually goes to orgies? No one I ever met. They would have invited me if they were going to one after all. Right? So no. No, it wouldn't really be an orgy, but I'd let them have friends over at my house. I'd be like an uncle (at least like my uncle who used to let me sleep over at his house and buy 30 packs of Hamms and gallons of wine to corrupt me). An American uncle. Like Uncle Sam. Yes. I'd be a good ambassador and let the guys have a party at my house.
The next day they came overr with a couple cases of beer and showed me they were armed with personal protective equipment. "We call the girls now." they said.
They called the girls and none of them would come. They were all at someone's birthday party on the other side of the island. They asked and I obliged; I'd take them to the party. "It's all girls. Many girls at this party." 69 said.
We drove up to the party. Luckily it was in a house at the top of a hill. I parked pretty close to the house. "You wait here and we'll get the girls." 69 said.
I had no idea why I had to wait but I did. I waited about 5 minutes when the 69s ran back to the car and told me to "Go. Go fast." It took me a minute or so to jump start the Plymouth.
"What happened?"
"The girl's mom saw us with the condoms and kicked us out. Chased us with a broom. She told us to leave--To stay away from her daughter."
"Wait. How old was this girl?"
"12." One 69 said.
"But she looks much older." Said another 69.
"What? You want to have an orgy with a bunch of 12 year olds?"
"No. They're not all 12. Some are our age."
"You mean your age. Do you realize how old I am? I thought you were talking about girls like 16, 17, 18 and I was still a little creeped out, Sixty-nine."
"You're 18 or 19, right?"
"I'm 22."
"Oh. Then you get three girls."
Posted by calculatoronfire at December 13, 2004 03:20 PM