Drama Inevitably Follows

Masturbating Mayhem!

2008-09-21T14:10:00.000-07:00

Continuing on with the party days of my life, this story takes part on another regular night at 447. Along with being the place where the parties were thrown, 447 was also the place of meeting to go out and party. We rounded up in large groups anywhere from ten to twenty girls at one time. On this particular summer evening, I would guess to say that there were about ten of us on the porch waiting for the last person so we could get our groove on at the local pub. Needless to say but I will anyway, we were in college and going out so our outfits might have been a tad scantily clad. That ties into the story as an important detail as you will soon see.

While waiting, I looked over to the other side of the porch and noticed something peering through the wooden bars of the porch as if I was looking at the window of a prison cell. I thought that the neighbors were inside, but just wrote it off as maybe one of them was taking a piss at the side of the house. We continued our wait for a few more minutes, but this figure was not moving from his position. At that point, I got a little weary and told all the girls to get inside until we could check it out. Just to be safe.

Lo came downstairs and asked what we were all doing and I gave her the outline of it. She figured that it was the neighbors as well and decided to go outside and give them hell for taking the longest piss ever. Seconds went by before Lo came bursting through the door screaming!

“There is an old man on our porch whacking off!” she said.

“What????”

When I heard this, I called the neighbors and asked them to go outside and check out what the hell was going on. Brendon (one of the neighbor boys) ran outside to give this guy a good fraternity style beating. The guy was nowhere in sight. He just disappeared. We still had the party itch so we decided to stay in a group and head down to the bar anyway. I was sure that he was scared off so it was safe. Besides, the bar was only 50 yards away.

We got to Slammy’s Bar, our usual hangout spot on a Thursday night. This is where everyone hung out. Not five minutes went by when Lo rushed over to me and said,

“There he is!!! “

The man had followed us to the bar and was watching us through the window and was spanking his monkey, jerkin’ the gerkin, you know, MASTURBATING!!!! Was this for real? Was there really a man that was stalking us and doing his deed as if we were his 25 cent viewing booth at the local titty bar. I ran over to the bouncer and gave him a quick overview of the situation and he ran outside. Again, the guy was gone. How does he do that?

The next couple of days were pretty quiet and normal until Lo came home and said that this man had come into her work. She was really the only one at this point that had gotten a good look at his face. I am not sure that I could have picked him out of a crowd. It was getting serious at that point if this guy was coming to our jobs. I still don’t know why we hadn’t called the police yet, but we didn’t. Lo was much frazzled, but she was heading out for a family vacation that day. It was good for her to get away from the situation. By the time she got back, everything would be normal again.

Another couple of days went by just like usual. The weekend rolled around to a beautiful Saturday. It was a perfect day for a walk. Little Sandy, our other sister Danny, and I decided that we wanted to peruse around the campus and check out the new construction. We walked all around and it was pretty desolate being that it was the weekend. The end of the walk was nearing and the three of us were heading back to 447. We had to cross a large parking lot by the rec center as a short cut back to out house. The lot was empty except for one lonely car.

“I think that old man is looking at us.” Little Sandy stated

Being the bitch that it was, I just walked past him and gave him the stink eye. I just thought he was some random guy looking too hard at a few college girls. It didn’t connect with me at that point for some reason. I was used to dirty old men staring and having to stare them down so they knew it wasn’t ok what they were doing. This particular man was in a ‘90s Buick, you know a very family car. After my stink eye attack, we passed the car. Once we passed, the man turned his car on and drove it so that the driver side door was facing our backs. I turned around to see what the hell was going on and saw it.

“Run!!!!”

I screamed at the girls to run to the house as quickly as possible. It was the only thing that I could think to do at the time. When I turned around to face the car, the man had his car door open to us, his pants pulled down to his ankles, and his hand moving rigorously up and down on his member. I couldn’t believe what was happening. As we started running toward the house, I saw a student walking down the street. I ran up to him and asked him to please wait there to make sure that nothing happened to me. He didn’t seem to speak a word of English and looked very confused. I ran back toward the car so that I could get a license plate, but the man sped off before I could get there. Why didn’t I think about getting the license plate before we ran? What was I thinking? I guess strange, public masturbation will cloud your ability to think fast.

We finally called the cops and gave them a description, although I don’t think it was very detailed. I just remembered the car and the picture of him strangling the snake. The cops told us that description matched a rapist that had been on campus the past few months. The best form of action was for the police to place a 24-hour watch on 447 for the next month.

They never caught the guy and we never saw him since. Looking back on it, I still can’t believe it. However, this is as true a story and I told it as best as I can remember it. Believe it!

The mystery of Little Sandy

2008-09-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

Now that you know a little bit about 447, I am going to start with the ridiculousness. The unbelievable that you must believe. This is how I remember it happening. It all started on a night like any other night at 447. We were throwing a party. Looking back, I think that it was a birthday party for Lo, but I can’t be certain since alcohol has clogged much of my memory for detail in college.

Parties at our place were never dull. The word always spread like wildfire and anyone who was anyone would be there. We would say who stays and who goes so it was always best to be on our good side if you wanted in, and why wouldn’t you? The music was always up, the drinks were always flowing, and you could trash the place without anyone getting upset because it was already trashed. It was somewhere where you could see Sadie drunk hula hooping while balancing a beer on her head. This was always a crowd favorite. It was a place you could see Crazy Chicken performing its latest song or the girls of 447 singing “Put it in my Mouth” in our PJ’s while jumping on our sofa. Yea, we really liked that song. It’s a real song if you have ever heard of it.

The party that night was like every other party. People were drinking and having a good time. It lasted until about 3:00 a.m. That was also normal. At about 1:00 a.m, I got a little tired of partying and my friend and I went to go hang out in my room to chat. We talked about all the happenings that had been going on lately and all sorts of other small talk that I can’t remember. I think we also talked about him having a major crush on one of our girls but I can’t remember. Time went by pretty fast and it became late. We decided that he should probably go and the party sounded as if it was over. We trudged down three flights of stairs and didn’t hear a peep. Each floor was crested with party shrapnel and all of the bedroom doors were closed. That meant everyone was in bed or…you know.

When we hit the bottom floor, I was getting ready to walk my friend out the door and was shocked to see someone standing at the open door that no one had shut after the party ended. There was only an unlocked screen separating us and this stranger whose motive was unclear. He was definitely not someone who would have been at the party. I would have seen him, but I found it strange that he was just standing at the door at 4:00 a.m.

“Can I help you?” I proceeded to ask very cautiously.

“Yea, I need my shirt back.” He said.

I was very confused because this guy hadn’t given me anything to go on besides that. How the hell was I supposed to know what he was talking about?

“What do you mean? What shirt and who are you?”

“I’m the neighbor from the back and I lent your roommate a shirt when I found her naked in the backyard”

NAKED IN THE BACK YARD? First of all, we didn’t ever go back there because there really wasn’t a backyard. It was just a fenced in, closet sized area that we threw our trash in. I was starting to get a little nervous and asked him to elaborate.

“I think she said her name was Sandy. I found her outside naked and all cut up and shit. I gave her my shirt and brought her back here.”

My mind was going crazy. None of this was making any sense. How could he have found Little Sandy in the back yard with no clothes on? He knew her name though so something must have happened and if she was naked, why? What the hell was going on? I asked the guy what his shirt looked like and he said it was a plaid, button-down shirt. I told my friend to wait here with this guy so that I could go up to Little Sandy’s room and see what was going on. I knocked on her door and of course no answer. I opened the door and found her sound asleep in her bed. She was all covered up, but in the dark I noticed a plaid, button-down shirt lying on top of her covers.

“Little Sandy, get up!” I shook her a little.

I kept shaking her but she wasn’t responding. I got louder and louder. She started to stir, but something was wrong. She wasn’t becoming coherent at all. It was scaring me so I uncovered her only to find her naked body in a bloody pulp. My stomach just sank in a panic. I grabbed the shirt and ran downstairs.

“What happened to her?” I screamed.

The guy said he didn’t know. That’s just how he found her, gave her his shirt to cover her, and brought her back to where she said she lived.

What was I supposed to do? In a panic I called another friend to ask him what to do. He told me to call 9-1-1, but my body froze. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know why, but I think I thought that she would get mad at me if nothing serious had happened. Of course something serious happened! This wasn’t normal, but I still couldn’t do it so he said that he would.

I ran upstairs trying to wake everyone up, but no one would answer my knocks at their door because they were either passed out or getting it on, or maybe both. I was by myself.

The ambulance showed up and I led them upstairs to her room. They tried to awaken her as I did and she started telling them to “Fuck off”. She obviously was not in the right state of mind. Two of the EMT’s got her up and carried her onto the stretcher and proceeded down the stairs. I had to go with her. There was no one else. I feared the worst.

We were at the hospital all night getting kits run and tests done. By this time Little Sandy was awake, but had no idea what happened. All she could remember was getting in the car with someone she didn’t know, telling them where she lived. She said that they drove her back home, but she didn’t know where she was or how she got there.

The tests came back negative and everyone was at a loss. What happened last night? By now it was late morning and Lo called me in frenzy.

“Why are there cops here taking evidence from Little Sandy’s room?”

I had to quickly tell her the story to get everyone up to date. She said that the cops were putting Little Sandy’s clothes in evidence bags and asking them questions, but of course they didn’t know anything because they were in a drunken coma the night before. How did Little Sandy undress and walk out of the house in the middle of the party without anyone seeing her? It had to have happened that way because the clothes that she was wearing that night were still in her room. Where did she go? What happened?

I brought her back home with some pain pills, bandages, and a sore neck with no explanation for anyone. It was never found out what happened to her that night and we didn’t talk about it much after that. It was a consequential night of drinking and partying. There are a lot of questions that will never be answered. The mystery of Little Sandy began that night and continued throughout our days at 447.

An insight into 447.

2008-09-14T12:27:00.000-07:00

Let me start off this blog by giving you an insight to my college life because that is where a lot of the drama lies… at 447. 447 was the address of the party house that we lived at in college. That is, me and my four other roommates. The house was an old fraternity house that had been burnt down in the early nineties and rebuilt into a duplex by an off-campus, real estate mogul whose target was poor and unsuspecting college students. He owned most of the almost condemned houses on the block, but 447 was special.

We lived next door to five fraternity guys if that will give you any insight as to what this house was like. The front porch was made of rotted wood and was leaning slightly to the left. It was adorned with a disco ball and a home made bar constructed out of ply wood. There was a ramp that led down the stairs to our makeshift lawn covered in beer bottles. To this day, I still don’t know why it was there. I can only imagine that our neighbors would get smashed and slide down it on their stomachs to see how many beer cans they could knock over at the bottom.

The inside was even better. When you walked through the door, a stale stench of beer hit your nostrils like a brush fire. You wouldn’t dare take your shoes off because that is where the odor was coming from. The carpet was soaked in post party alcohol from the weekend before. The white sofa was stained with Harry Buffalo juice. The kitchen couldn’t be used because the sink was piled high with crusted dishes that no one ever claimed. There were three stories, five bedrooms, and only ONE bathroom for all five girls. On top of that, the walls were so thin, that nothing could be kept secret.

447 had been an annex house of my sorority for years. It was the place that all of our girls came to party because they obviously were not allowed to do it in the sorority house. There were rules there, but not at 447. I lived with four very different personalities.

Sadie lived in the second floor in the largest of the bedrooms at the end of a long hall. She was had been dating a Tau Kappa Epsilon for as long as I had lived there. She ran more than five miles a day and her diet consisted of canned green bean juice, onions eaten like an apple, and two liters of diet 7-up. Occasionally, she would sneak a bag of candy in there or a whole pan of brownies that I had made the day before.

Little Sandy was my second roommate. We called her Little Sandy for very obvious reasons. Her hobbies consisted of drunken grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon or locking herself up in her room. She wasn’t the most talkative.

The third girl of the house was Maren. Maren seemed the most adult of us all. She was the oldest so this would make sense. She was a former Miss Ohio who had been competing in pageants her whole life. Now she wanted to be a news anchor. Maren was very serious with a frat boy so she wasn’t around much. She spent most of her time at the fraternity house playing Alpha Sig sweetheart.

The last girl in the house was Lo. Lo lived on the third floor with me and was my best friend. Her most favorite hobbies were making out with “randoms” at house parties and going out to the bars with me. We went to the bars almost every night. We usually took Tuesday and Wednesday off unless there was something going on. A night out for us consisted of one-hour naps from about six to seven. Then, we would get up and get ready for the night ahead of us. I always got ready faster than Lo and would become impatient so to cure my getting antsy, we got an old school Nintendo and I would play Super Mario Brothers to keep myself occupied until she was ready. Then the drama would begin.

This is a short look into what life at 447 was like. You will understand more as the stories unfold. 447 becomes the setting for a bulk of the bizarre happenings. It always seemed like something else was going on.