The Galleon, Volume 59, 1983-1984 Page: 42
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Cherche Les Hommes
"People, people who need people." Showers have such great acoustics. By far my favorite
place to sing. I was belting out Streisand's "People" in full nasal twang when my spouse's
snarling face appeared around the shower curtain.
"Good God, woman! Can't you shut up? I am trying to get some sleep."
That's my man. Impulsive, romantic fool that he is.
Our first encounter was at Playland Amusement Park. Alicia, Zora and I were there, trolling,
ineptly, for males. How could we have lowered ourselves to such tackiness? We were the
best and the brightest honors students at Phineas Boggs High. If it came in the printed word,
we could master it. Yet, although we had a firm foundation in academics, we now felt the
need for a little hands-on experience. For that we needed guinea pigs.
We had prepared for the great experiment carefully. We showered, shaved and sham-
pooed, applied false eyelashes, peel-off facial masks, burgundy eyeliner, mauve shadow and
Scintillating Scarlet nail polish with gold flecks. Three Lolitas out for the kill.
We were climbing off the Tilt-A-Whirl when we saw them: three live ones, playing the
Duck Game, the one where the little plastic ducks float by on a water trough. You pick three
up, add up the numbers on their bottoms, and you win a prize. Truly a game of skill and dex-
terity.
They were P. Boggs' students. Seniors, even. The great, big one that resembled a well-
shaven King Kong was a football player. Actually, he just warmed the bench a lot. Later, I was
to find out why. There was Dopey (with a broken nose) from "Snow White" and Ichabod
Crane with coke bottle glasses and bad hair. We were in luck. No one else had spotted them
yet. We moved in.
We wiggled and giggled and flattered and charmed. They fell for it.
I didn't want to go on the roller coaster. I don't like them. I get violently ill. But I was too busy
smiling and preening to notice, so I ended up in the first car with King Kong. The cars chugg-
ed to the top of the rise and I looked down and down.
"Oh, Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus!" I pried my fingers from the safety bar to clasp them
together in final, silent prayer. I forgot I was holding a stick of cotton candy and now my hands
were glued together in a cloud of pink. The car began to drop.
"Oh, please, God, if you get me out of this one, I promise I will remain celibate my entire
life."
My stomach began to churn and gurgle. Please, not now! I will die of embarrassment. A
dreadful thought leaped to the fore-if I puke in King Kong's lap, would he still let me drive his
Corvette?
Glory be! We were coming in to the station. I was alive, whole, my dignity intact. I looked
down at my welded hands.
"I was a little excited back there, Lord. Could we talk this over later?"
They plied us with hotdogs, cokes and caramel apples. We rode all the rides-going round
and round and round and then get off and puke. We were having a grand time.
The moment finally arrived we'd all been anticipating. Could King King drive me home? I
hesitated. You fool! Isn't this why you came? To boldly explore new worlds, to be swept up in
the cosmic experience? To ride in his new, red Corvette?
It took me the better part of an hour the next morning, working with Pancake makeup
number nine, to cover my neck sufficiently. When I sat down to breakfast, my father studied
me a long time.
"I don't want you to see that boy again, ever."
"Right."
The Church wedding, a year later, was limited to family and a few hundred intimate friends.Judith Spencer
42
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McMurry College. The Galleon, Volume 59, 1983-1984, periodical, 1984; Abilene, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth137875/m1/44/?q=%221984~%22: accessed August 15, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting McMurry University Library.