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.
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