14 October 2011

Love, Your Secret Admirer

My amazing friend Amanda has decided to tackle the writing world and shared a story with me this morning.  I am posting it on my blog as a guest blog; the reason being this is one of my favorite memories I have of our amazing adventures together.  There are many, but only a couple of them can really be shared with the outside world.

Amanda and I have done things that we cannot speak of to other people and to most of you, this may seem like one of those things, but we're not embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, we are damn proud of this one!

So, please enjoy.  And Man-Duh, thanks again for sharing. Without you, I would be the only one making an ass of myself, but when we're together, it's a combined effort and I love you for that.


            Back in the day in my hometown, the place to work was Trig’s Food and Drug. I am not sure if this grocery store was a merciful employer, offering jobs to all who applied, or if it had a high turnover, but fresh meat was always in season. Whatever the case, a fair amount of my friends have at one time, worked at this particular grocery store.
            Kara was my best friend for most of my high school life and we still remain close to this day. She too, worked at Trig’s. I think part of the reason we were so close is our disgusting senses of humor combined with the inescapable desire to top the other in grossness. If there was a line, we generally pole vaulted over it. Some of the things we've done are just too terrible to tell, but I will let you in on one particular evening that may or may not still haunt some of the people involved.
            As a back story, Justin was one of our friends who happened to work the 3pm to 11pm shift at Trig’s. He drove an old red flatbed truck, which was an awesome opportunity for us to leave random things on the flatbed for him. Kara and I had taken advantage of this and started placing shopping carts, tree branches, potted plants, garbage cans, and whatever else we could find on the back of it for him to find when he left work each night. Occasionally he and his coworker Joel would retaliate and place items onto the hoods of our cars.  Unfortunately for them, they were not as creative as we were.
            One Saturday evening during the summer of 1999, I was over at Kara’s parents’ house (as usual). Justin and Joel were both working at Trig’s that evening, so we conspired to make an extra special offering to Justin’s flatbed truck. Kara and I devised a plan that we would make up a box marked “from your secret admirer” and when Justin opened it, something horrible would be waiting in it, just for him.
            At first, we started with moldy hot dog buns we found in the breadbox in the kitchen.  Then Kara's mom suggested she clean out the catbox before we left the house again when the idea suddenly came to us.  Why throw away perfectly good cat shit when we had the perfect use for it?  Cat shit hot dogs in moldy buns, complete with ketchup, mustard, and relish. After many fits of complete hysteria, we managed to perfect our hot dogs, packing the turds in the buns just right and stuffed them into a shoebox. 
            But we were still missing something.  There was still a large amount of space to occupy the box, but how do you complement cat-shit hot dogs? The wheels in our heads turned for about 30 seconds when a light bulb went off – ROADKILL! We thought that a nice flattened squirrel or chipmunk would accompany the hot dogs perfectly. We thought for a few moments as to the last time we actually saw road kill. That’s the funny thing, when you are looking for it, it’s nowhere to be found. The idea seemed impossible but then Kara’s younger sister Katie chimed in.
            “I think I saw a dead squirrel behind pizza hut today on my way home from school.”
            In unison, Kara and I screamed, “YES!” and to the DY-Nasty (Kara's awesome car) we flew to retrieve our prize. Time seemed to stand still as we drove down Lincoln Street. After about eight minutes, we finally made it to Pizza Hut. As we rounded the corner, there it was in all of its glory – a week-old flattened squirrel.
            We parked the car and fumbled to get out when it dawned on us.  We have a box with cat-shit hot dogs in it, but we didn’t bring anything to pick up the road kill. SHIT! I am thoroughly disgusting, but I was not about to pick up a dead-ass squirrel with my bare hands. Neither was Kara.
            We ran to the nearby bushes in search of some twigs to use as makeshift chopsticks. The closest thing we were able to find were some dried up flower stems that felt more like straw than sticks, but they would have to do. After some stem breakage and fumbling, we finally got the squirrel in a satisfactory position in the box. We put the cover back on and carefully placed the box into the trunk of the DY-Nasty and headed back for Casa de Kara.
            By this time it was around 9:45pm, which gave us a little over an hour before Justin would get done with work. This would be just enough time to put the finishing touches on the box. We wrote a beautiful note and attached it to the box with a gorgeous bow made of toilet paper. Between Kara and me, my handwriting was more “adult-like” so I was the scribe.
            After careful consideration, we realized the note needed to be simple, but meaningful so as to not draw suspicion. The note read:
To Justin
Your Secret Admirer
            Hey, I didn't say we were smart or overly creative; I just said the note needed to be simple.
            It was now 10:35pm and our gift box was complete. To avoid any suspicion, we decided to take my ride verses Kara's car. My sweet 1989 Brown Toyota Station Wagon. Nothing was classier than the Brown Beastly Bastard. We had to ride in style you know.
            We nonchalantly pulled into Trig’s parking lot and headed toward Justin’s flatbed truck. We parked and exited the car in a calm manor, as to not attract any attention. Justin was working express that night, and if he was really looking, I think that he could have seen us mid-delivery. We carefully placed the expertly prepared box onto the truck’s hood, (driver’s side of course). We then quietly got back into the BBB and drove to the top of a small hill into the Rhinelander Post Office’s parking lot.
            At approximately twenty yards away, we had a perfect view and were inconspicuous. It was the perfect spot to watch all of our handy work come to fruition. Minutes passed like hours as Kara and I sat and waited. It was silent, except for the occasional breathy laughter that was difficult to contain.
            It was now 11 p.m. and the suspense was excruciating. We watched as people walked out of Trig’s express doors, hoping each time that it was Justin. At approximately 11:08, Justin and Joel both emerged together. We were laughing so hard we were both out of breath and on the verge of passing out.  Kara and I both covered our mouths to stifle our laughter as best we could.
            Justin and Joel casually strolled over to Justin’s truck, talking and laughing, but none the wiser of the gift or of our presence. As Justin made his way to the driver’s side of his truck, he noticed the box. He gave it a look which said, “Seriously?!” but he also appeared quite curious. He slowly untied the TP bow and removed the box top. A look of horror came across his face as he looked in the box, leaned back, and then leaned in close, disbelieving what he saw. Joel had a similar reaction as Justin backed away.
            Suddenly, to our disbelief, Joel picked up the box and dropkicked it like a soccer ball, flinging our cat shit hot dog masterpieces and dead squirrel into the air. Turds and chunks of hot dog bun scattered across the pavement and the squirrel seemed to do a slow-motion cartwheel as it flew ten feet up.
            In unison Kara and I both screamed, “SICK!”, and laughed so hard we almost threw up. I made the brown beastly bastard roar to life and as I peeled out of the parking lot, I saw Justin and Joel in my rearview mirror looking around, totally flabbergasted. 
            Although we were proud of our gift to Justin, we didn't want him to know it was us for fear of retaliation of something far more disgusting; he came from a family of hunters and it was nearing deer season, which gave him ample opportunity to do something equally as horrifying and disgusting to us.
            To this day, we're not sure if Justin ever really knew it was us.  He might have been suspicious because we were probably the only two females he knew who were capable of such atrocities. 
            I'd like to think he doesn't because if he had known, I can almost guarantee you I would have ended up with a deer head on the hood of my car and Kara would have had her DY-Nasty decorated with deer entrails.
            That's the thing about secret admirers though; you never know who you're dealing with!
Written by Amanda Mangerson


CelticLady said...

Oh the good days hey?
Sure do miss you girls.

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