Francis: Sold out for smokes and a Mt. Dew

I'm not going to list stories in chronological order. I prefer to go with what stands out in my memory most. I most likely choose this one because of the level of betrayal I sustained. Or maybe because it's the most fun to tell.

The story begins with a fun night out with my friends. I had been sleeping on a recliner in Francis's bedroom, because my mom threw me out of the house for being a pot-head. So my best friend, Liz, met up with me at Francis's house and we were picked up by 3 of our other friends, Val, Carrie, and Michea. These 3 friends will be featured in several other Francis stories, because they have seen a great deal of madness.

Francis was with his friends watching WWF, and therefore was not upset by my going out. That is until he got home, and I was still out and about. So, me and the girls got stoned, went to Coney, and acted like jackasses. This was our favorite past-time. All the while, Francis was paging me non-stop. (Yes, I had a pager. This was back in 1997. The only cell phones were the huge Zack Morris phones, and that would come later. I preferred to spend my money on weed.) I didn't call him back, because I didn't feel like it. I was having fun, and I knew he would want to hang out. Plus, I was planning on going home with Liz and spending the night at her house and I knew he would have a cow.

A few hours and a million pages later, we decided it was time to head home for the night. In our weed-induced brainlessness, we totally forgot that Liz's car was parked in front of Francis's house. The fear set in. I can't explain the feeling exactly, but it was a kind of panic that nobody else has ever made me feel. So we fabricated a game plan. Val, whom was experienced in stunt driving due to other Francis encounters, was driving. The plan was that Val was going to speed around the corner in his sub-division, pull up next to Liz's car, and we would run to the car, lock the doors, and never look back. We did a test lap past his house, and his car was not in the driveway. This only meant one thing.... he was out looking for me. On our 2nd time around the block, just as we were coming around the corner, the blur of a rust colored Ford Spectrum comes out of nowhere, breaks, skids sideways, and stops perfectly as a sideways road-block between us and our destination, Liz's car.

We all sat there for a second, stunned and paralyzed in fear. Then Liz and I started screaming, "Roll up the windows, lock the doors!!" Just as the last window was up, Francis comes barreling towards my door, trying to pull it open and banging on the windows. It was a sight that not even the best writer could capture, and not even the best horror movie producer could create. It was pure, real life insanity, and it was directed at me. I'm not sure if the weed made it better or worse, but all I do know is that shit was scary. He was screaming at everyone to unlock the doors or roll down the windows. All the while, his car is completely blocking his some what busy side street. We were stuck, and there was no other option than to deal with him.

Francis began pleading with me to "just talk to him", as he always would. Followed by the predictable comments of "why do you always do this to me" and "I care about you so much". I told him that I would talk to him if he would stop acting insane and move his car out from the middle of the road. He agreed. As he was getting back in his car, I had an idea. I was not yet ready to throw in the towel. After all, I am a fighter. I told Val to floor it as soon as he moved out of the way, and I told Liz to get her keys ready and we were going to make a run for it. We had left the doors unlocked so I thought we have a decent chance of survival.

Francis moved his car, Val waited for him to pass Liz's car and head up his driveway, then she gunned it. I don't even think she had stopped her car when me and Liz had jumped out and ran for it. As absurd as it was for us to put together this plan, Francis caught on very quickly, and he threw his car into park mid-way up the driveway and came running. We got in the car with plenty of time to shut and lock the doors. There's was just one problem. The "hooptey" has power windows, and mine just happened to be down about 1/4 of the way. I felt like a blonde bimbo in a horror movie as I was screaming for Liz to get the keys in the ignition, and she fumbled just the same as the terror took control over her trembeling hands.

Francis came from nowhere, and lunged his arm into my window, just as Liz got the keys in the ignition. He was panting and yelling, and his face was bright red. We could even see the veins bulging out of his forehead. We were stuck, and he refused to remove his arm from the window unless we would allow him to accompany us back to Liz's house, which was 1/2 hour away. I said no way, and gave Liz the look as though it was ok for her to roll the window up on his arm. She also told him no, but was easily persuaded once he offered to buy her a Mt. Dew and a pack of cigarettes. There was no hope for me. We were stuck, and I was sold out by my best friend.

Francis knew that we couldn't be trusted, so he followed closely to the party store where he took Liz hostage inside with him, to assure we didn't escape. Liz got back in the car and announced that she would try to lose him on the way, but I was still pissed at her and knew she was no match for the crazy stunt driving that Francis was so good at.

We began the journey to her house with Francis on our tail. At one point, Liz pulled a quick right into what looked like a rinky-dink car dealership. Francis didn't even flinch before following us inside. It wouldn't have mattered anyway because there was one way in and one way out. He started screaming out the window at us, and Liz acted dumb and said she thought she blew a tire. We continued on our way. Once we got into Liz's sub-division, we decided to mess with Francis a bit. Liz started doing about 2 mph down the road, and he became infuriated. He started pulling up right next to us, and screaming out the window. We just looked ahead and pretended not to see him. This pissed him off even more. We started driving around in circles, and continued to do so for about a half hour, smiling and waving at Francis as he screamed obscenities out his window.

When we arrived at Liz's house, he was pissed, but also wanted to hang out, so he dropped it after about an hour of bitching. The confrontation was never as bad as the chase, but you can't blame a girl for running. After all, he did always kill our buzz.

Francis: The Pre-text

I will begin my stories, with a sub-series of stories, about a fellow that indefinately changed my life. He's everything a writer could ask for in a topic.... insane, lovable, furious, and hilarious. As a friend, he's also everything you could ask for, well he's everything I could ask for. Most people would probably be afraid, as I was often. But he kept life interesting, and always kept me laughing, even when it was for the wrong reasons. What more can you ask for?

We'll call him Francis, since I still like him pretty good. Plus, Francis is a funny name and I like to say it. I met Francis when I was 17 years old. We were both working at the local Buffet Restaurant. To this day, I'm still unsure of how we became friends, since I was, and still am, unsocial, and he was not the typical type of person that I would befriend. One way or another it happened, and he began letting me borrow his car. This was an exceptional deal for me, since I barely knew how to drive since my mother revoked my privileges after I almost killed her twice.

Now, Francis had stipulations on the usage of his vehicle and violating these stipulations would not result in the loss of privileges, but resulted in the most horrendous of consequences.... a pissed off Francis. I'll tell you what, I'd rather have my mom pissed at me, than deal with him. It was that bad. Anyways, back to the stipulations. One, you must NEVER drive the rust-colored Spectrum while impaired. Which, for me, meant stoned. Hey, I liked weed. Two, you must be on time to pick Francis up from work. And that was it. Two simple rules that were impossible to follow. But, oh, what a time.

Now I haven't quite touched on the part where Francis was madly in love with me. He was. And I now know where they got that phrase from. Not only did he go berzerk over the misuse of his vehicle, but he also went berzerk if I chose to spend time with anyone other than him, if I chose to use any drugs other than pot, or if I insisted that my best friend, Hurricane Elizabeth, tagged along. Of course, I did all 3 regularly and this also caused many of great stories. Now that we have the pre-text taken care of, we can get to the good stuff.

Hi!, I'm a lesbian.

Hey people. I guess this is my introduction, so I'll start off with my purpose. No, not my life purpose.... the purpose of this blog. Obviously, I am a lesbian, but this is not all that I'll speak about, so if that's what you're looking for, I'm not your girl. But I will tell you this, and it may help, as I know I would want to know, I'm not a nasty man-dyke. It's a little less captivating when you're imagining a 250 pound, vested, lesbian with a mullet and facial hair telling you stories. Who wants to picture that? I sure don't. God, I already have to live with the fact that 70% of the available vagina is attached to one of those burly beasts. My life is sad. Seriously, how come gay men are so handsome and well-dressed, and 70% of lesbians are hetero rejects that no man could love. I guess it works because woman are supposed to be able to love someone for what's on the inside, but sadly, I wasn't born with that kind of empathy. For me, woman are like cars. If it's not sexy on the outside, I couldn't care less about the inside. I'd rather put up with massive amounts of nutty bitchness, than lick on one of those titless waddlers. And I do, as you'll find out.

There's alot more to me other than the fact that I'm gay, and I can tell you that my life will make you laugh. Alot. Not to mention that I'm hilarous. Yeah, I said it. I may change names to protect the obviously retarded. I may not, depending on how much I hate you. We'll just have to see. Also, I maybe should've mentioned this before I started maming people as retarded, but I do tend to be a bit offensive at times. If you have a strong will to defend the unintelligent, protect the innocent, or shield the ignorant- you're not going to like me. But do me a favor, and click an ad on your way out.

With that said, we'll get started. Prepare yourself for insanity, and the most colorfully crazy characters that you would probably never want to meet. If you're reading and realize that you are one of them, I'm very sorry. But know this, you've made a lasting impression on me some how and will NEVER be forgotten. And most likely, neither will any idiotic thing that you've ever done in my presence. Good Day.