Part 16: Just Another Lost Angel…
I wasn’t happy to find out Moose arranged for more girls to stay with us.
When I confronted Moose about the three new girls, he said,“These girls are different.
Two schoolteachers and a nurse.
They’re staying with us to save money on hotels.
They’re renting a car and taking day trips.
“Okay,“I said.
“But they better stock our fridge!”
Moose’s mother was Italian and a great cook.
He covered it with pasta sauce and mozzarella cheese.
We were careful not to wolf it down in one sitting, which would’ve been easy to do.
We got in the habit of rationing our food so we could make it last.
One morning, Moose woke up early and made chocolate brownies (no weed).
The house smelled great, and when he pulled them out of the oven, they were done perfectly.
He covered ‘em in tinfoil and slid ‘em into the shiny aluminum bread basket on the kitchen counter.
Then he got a call from his friend Shelly, a girl I graduated high school with in ‘74.
She was a good-looking girl.
Dark skin, dark eyes, and jet black hair on a thin, five-foot-four frame.
She had perfect teeth and a big, inviting smile.
She had a great body, that included a"can’t keep your eyes off ofrack”.
She dated older guys in high school, so none of us in her class ever had a chance.
When she arrived, Shelly’s contagious smile was on full display.
I sat in the recliner between the two.
Moose rolled a joint, and the three of us got high, really high.
At one point, Shelly said,“I got the munchies.
Do have guys have anything we can munch out on?”
We have nothing in the house…”
I was shocked!
“Moose didn’t say another word.
He was content to hoard his brownies.
Shelly kept pushing,“You gotta have something.
I have the munchies…“She was desperate.
I knew if I wasn’t there, he would’ve already tried to get her in the sack.
I had had enough…“We have the brownies, Moose.
At that point, Moose had no choice except to come clean.
He was pissed at me, but I just laughed.
He was a selfish prick.
Probably the middle child syndrome rearing its ugly head.
Obviously, he had never learned how to share… And there were many times I never got it…
The two teachers seemed nice enough.
The nurse was five feet ten inches tall, with short, flaming red hair and a big smile.
I was never a fan of tall girls.
I remember junior high dances when the girls who towered over the guys never got asked to dance.
They became lonely-looking wallflowers.
Then there’s the redhead thing.
Back in the late ‘60searly ’70s, redheads fell into two categories: drop-dead gorgeous or butt-ugly.
Most of the ones I knew fell in the latter.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…
