Lyrics courtesy of Rod Stewart
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Ghost stories never scared me. Vampires, werewolves, mummies, witches... interesting ideas, but not scary. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest... now that was some scary shit. I only mention that I never believed in such things because maybe if I had been afraid that night things would have been different.
I remember every detail. I always did have a good memory (It made high school a total joke. I made A's without trying hard, which left me plenty of time to have fun, and oh, God, did I have fun. Being the youngest made it easier. Mommy and Daddy (I always called them that, helped the image) never imagined that their baby was a bit of a deviant. If they could only see me now.
The night it all happened I had just turned eighteen, and just found out how badly you can get hurt when you think you're in love with a fucking idiot of a teenage boy and your "best friend forever" is a fickle teenage girl. I didn't eat or sleep for days after Tommy told me he just wanted to be friends... code for "I'm sick of you; I want to try to pop your best friend's cherry now." So in that mood, I was even gladder than usual when my sister Emily invited me to spend Halloween weekend with her at UGA, where she went to school.
I drove up on Friday after school, loving the freedom of my new driver's license and the Camaro Daddy had bought me to go with it. Radio blasting, windows down... "Born to Run" came on just as I was getting close to Athens, and I felt almost human for the first time in weeks. Emily made it even better when she hugged me hello while holding a just-opened bottle of Jack Daniels. "Lyin' Eyes" was on the stereo as I said hi to her roommate Linda and the three of us started to do some serious drinking.
At nine, all feeling no pain, we got ready for the costume party at the KA house. Em had a reasonably serious boyfriend in the frat, and she assured me whichever of his brothers I chose would make me forget all about Tommy. As I looked at myself in the mirror, my ego told me I would have my choice. I just hoped Charlie's Angels had caught on enough at UGA for people to recognize my perfect imitation of "Farrah hair" and the exact replica I had of the white sundress she wore in the "Night of the Strangler" episode.
We got just the reaction we hoped when we hit the KA house: catcalls and cheers and offers of beer. Em wore an open shirt over her white bikini, a la Jaclyn Smith, and Linda (in a formalish dress and pearls) was just as tall as Kate Jackson, but much sexier. Sis kissed her lover hello and the two of them insisted I play third wheel for a bit. After a few introductions, though, as I listened to a pimply faced guy in red white and blue shorts explain that was dressed as Rocky and tried not to tell him he looked more like Adrian, Emily gave my ass a squeeze and they were gone.
It turned out that "Rocky", despite physical shortcomings, was a fair hand at the rolling of joints, and I was soon getting high to "Dream Weaver" and enjoying the attempts of a gaggle of costumed Southern boys to impress me. I sat on a comfy couch and they gathered around me as if I was holding court. Out of loyalty to my source (and out of being sick of wearing heels) I kicked off my shoes and leaned back as I took a hit, laying my legs across Rocky's lap. He lost his slim chance of more when I felt his hands on my calves... weak hands. That's a dealbreaker for me. Still, he was clearly enjoying the view up my skirt I was giving him, so I figured we were even for the weed.