In the first grade, I had a girlfriend named Shawna. She didn’t know that she was my girlfriend, but that wasn’t important. I thought about her as my girlfriend. I longed for her to be my girlfriend. I’d have pretend conversations with her. So what if she didn’t know who I was. In my mind, she was my girlfriend. All through first grade and well into second grade I was infatuated with her. She didn’t really know I existed, but I didn’t care. I’d watch for her as the other classes went out to recess. I’d watch her in the lunchroom, giggling with her girlfriends. I used to pretend that one of my stuffed animals was her and I’d practice kissing her. So went my formative grade school years. One day, during lunch, Shawna sat across from me while I was in particularly good form. My mom had packed some peaches in a tupperware container and I was playing at being a brave eskimo hunter, spearing hapless seals in the water. I jabbed peach after peach, drawing a crowd in the process. Shawna liked my style. “I think I like you, you’re funny,” she said as she looked admiringly at my handiwork. I continued my hunter schtick until the peaches were gone. Then I finished my lunch and talked with my friends. I was still basking in the glory of the hunt when Shawna called the whole thing off, “I don’t like you anymore. You talked all the like out of me.” The brave hunter returned to class without his trophy.

get crazy with the cheez whiz.

you're fucking lying.

It's still a good story. And that's all that matters. Stories are just a way to stay sane, to not focus on the stupid parts of life (translates: most of what I've been posting today is stupid piddling crap and I hate when my thoughts focus around those things), to expand, and to generally enjoy ones self...both the teller and the listener (or in this case, the reader). So. Tell us a story.

there was this guy, we'll call him rick, and he grew up an only child whose family was best friends with this other family whose only child was a girl. we'll call her wendy. rick and wendy were childhood pals. only thing was wendy's dad was a little bit of a pedofile and liked to fondle ricky a bit. this went on for a few years with ricky never telling a soul. when the kids were about twelve wendys family moved away and the two never saw each other again until fifteen years later. by this time wendys dad had become pretty succesful and had actually become president of the usa. one day while vacationing wendy was swimming and got caught in a strong current. she was helpless on the verge of drowning when a nearby fisherman heard her cries for help and jumped in and saved her ass. as it turns out this fisherman was old long-lost childhood friend ricky. the pres was so overjoyed at not losing his only child that he told ricky, who he didn't remember, that he could have whatever he wanted. ricky laughingly suggested a presidential pardon to be used sometime in the future should he need it for a parking ticket or something. saving wendy was no big deal, presidents daughter or not, anyone would have done it. the president wouldn't have it. he had the presidential pardon written up, signed it and gave it to ricky. ricky had repressed all his childhood molestation memories over the years but after the near drowning incident they returned. he buys a gun, kills the president and gets himself off with the presidential pardon.

as a twist it turns out the vice pres who will become president set it all up from the get-go.

still sounds good

Jay, you left out the part where Ricky mentions that his favorite book is Catcher in the Rye.

No, no, no...there needs to be more of a twist. Like Wendy's father, the big molester left them, and her mother remarried the Pres. But Ricky, in his tortured and twisted state is just looking for any male authority figure to take the blame. In a finale worthy of Shakespeare mixed with some Pushkin...Ricky realises as he stares down at the dead President, that he's killed the wrong man. Actually, maybe the real molester could be the cop who comes to arrest Ricky.

Jay, Shouldn't your story have some kind of rectal/fecal theme? You must be slipping.

the whole story centers behind the debate over whether the presidential pardon could be used to get off for actually killing the president. maybe instead of shooting him Ricky forces him to hold in his poop until the presidents colon explodes. hows that FB?

Better

Jay - that story is absolutely true. I've posted other true stories here... it's been a while though. Maybe Cyst or Fetidbeaver would remember the story of the 10-year celibate guy... After a week's worth of posts.. that's all I have to add to this discussion.

How quickly they forget,and I was going to give you a mercy fuck.How is your wrist Dave?

Where you been Wavydave?

My wrist is doing fine. I'm bummed because the bills haven't quit yet. But what's a little money against having the use of my right wrist back? The doctor was impressed with my regenerative qualities.. I've been around. I still check the posts here when I'm a bit bored. I'm actually a bit flattered that you guys/gals kinda remember me. *warm fuzzies* I have a few more stories to tell... maybe I'll post my review essay of the Night Ranger concert... -wavydave, still celibate and single

I want stories. Mainly because I'm in a lurker sort of mood these days.