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Chuckie Finn

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A Lasting Impression
By Chuckie Finn
Monday, August 16, 2004

Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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The women in high school all remembered me but not for the right reasons.



I bet you'll always remember your first love. You know, that special someone who made you do crazy things just to win a smile or to hear their unforgettable wonderful laughter. As outlandish and ridiculous as it may seem, even I had a crush on a girl in my homeroom my junior year. To me, Nancy Wilcox was the prettiest girl who had ever worn braces on her teeth and who had a mild case of warts on her left forearm. Of course, Nancy never knew I even existed or even gave me a second look as did most of the girls in school. I decided a definite plan of action had to be inaugurated and implemented to attract her attention. Contemplating my dilemma further, it seemed logical, the best way to remedy my situation would be to seek assistance from one of the older jocks there at school who had little or no difficulty attracting the affections of the opposite sex.

At the expense of two chicken salad sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, a Snickers bar and completing his History homework for a week, I finally negotiated a verbal contract to be schooled in the romantic art of "scoring a chic."


Bobby Richardson, was recruited to be my love tutor. Upon surveying and evaluating my rather physically challenged anatomy at the time, he informed me he had his work cut out for him. He concluded, it would be his finest hour of accomplishment if he could get me lucky just once during our high school days.

"Chuckie, first thing wrong here is that you don't have any warts like she has. You have to have something in common with her to strike up a conversation. Face it, you are not an engineer on a runaway love train." He shook his head in dismay and rubbed his chin as if in deep thought and concentration.

I flinched at the remark. "Bobby, I really don't think I like her enough to try and get a wart somewhere on my body," I replied shrugging my shoulders and wrinkling my nose.

"No, I didn't mean go and try to get a wart!" Bobby yelled in frustration. By his grumpy attitude I could only imagine he was facing an overwhelming obstacle to get a girl interested in me. "Ok, listen closely." Bobby pivoted sharply and snapped his fingers. "Girls like fancy cars and loud radios. What are you driving around town as you cruise for action?"

"Driving?" I asked biting my lower lip. "My father's Chevy Impala on a permit, but I can't take it out alone anymore. I am grounded for a while. Last time I took it out alone I almost ran over a police officer directing traffic."

"Chuckie, you're making this difficult. I may have to have you do my math homework too, if this keeps up. Now from what I understand, this Nancy broad, has a dog and she takes it for a walk in the park after school. Now, what you do is take your dog for a walk after school too. Then you sort of accidentally run into her and you start to talk to her about her dog and all the cute things that animals do. Let the dogs sniff one another and do whatever dogs do when they meet. It breaks the ice, and next thing you know, she'll get attracted to you. You move in close and ask her out while she's happily preoccupied watching her dog and your dog play and wag tails. After a few minutes, she's smiling, your smiling, and bingo, next thing you know, you're making out with her in the back seat of the Impala to the tune of the latest Rolling Stones hit." Bobby clapped his hands and nodded his head like he just solved some complex Chemistry formula. With an impish gleam in his eye, he released a sigh of accomplishment.

"Yeah!" I replied. My eyes lit up like a pinwheel of fireworks as a jolt of electricity surged through me. I could just picture this innocent encounter becoming a starry-eyed paradise just like he said. "Sounds great Bobby! I can handle this. Just walk my dog Rutherford, and I'll bump into her and her dog. This is gotta work!"

The air smelled of radiant sunshine. I rushed home, imagining her cameo face and velvet and honey kisses. I eagerly applied a bit of Mennon Dry Look hair spray in order to look like a mop-head Beatle. I purchased a roll of some Butter Rum Life Savers for fresh breath. I felt I was ready to appease my sexual appetite!

Disaster loomed on the horizon as usual and my effort of seduction was thwarted. My dog, Rutherford, was 125 pounds of horny male German Shepard that ate from the neighbor's garbage cans and drank water out of the toilet bowl. Her boutique parlor groomed dog named "Princess" was a little female French Poodle with pink ribbons and bows and a cute little pom-pom on the tail which looked like a welcoming banner to my dog saying "Hello There Big Fella".

After thirty minutes of intense vigorous exercise of chasing Rudy and Princess between the cars of rush hour traffic, Nancy told me she hoped both Rutherford and I dropped dead. The tragedy also led to her departing statement of never wanting to see either one of us again. Princess spent three days in the nervous trauma center animal hospital with her veterinarian. I was crestfallen as now it appeared hopeless that I would never get a chance to be alone with Nancy.

"That's not a good start, but at least she knows who you are now," Bobby said as convincingly as possible. "Did you tell her you want first bid on the puppies when they are born?"

"Look Bobby, I am desperate. She's got me wrapped up in tiny knots," I said wringing my hands together blindly immune to his cynical amusement concerning the puppies.

"Ok Ok, relax, now, Chuckie. There's plenty of women out there that are just as lonesome as you are and looking for attention. We are gonna have to take drastic action now. I really didn't want to do this just yet, but it looks like this is a last resort." He paced the asphalt driveway and bit his thumbnail trying to find the correct words. There was a hint of apprehension in his voice. How can I put this so even you can understand. I know you're kinda slow when it comes to this sex stuff." He sighed deeply and draped an arm over my frail shoulders.

"Just tell me what kind of strategy you would use if you were in my shoes. I will do anything right about now." There was an awkward silence. My eyes pleaded to him to finally arrive at a solution to amplify Nancy's desire for me.

"Ok, now look. Girls like guys that are well hung. They have a tendency to glance down at their pants and kind of look and see what's hanging. Do you know what I am talking about, Chuckie?" Bobby quirked his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

"What's hanging? You mean like if my pant cuffs are too long?" A confused expression dominated my facial features.

"No, you idiot," he said throwing his hands in the air and walking away from me.

"What's behind your zipper! Dammit!" he screamed attracting the attention of the other students in the yard.

"Oh? Oh that thing. Really?" I said with a sneaky smile. "Do they look at that a lot?" I asked amazed at his statement. My eyes affixed on his, greedy for an answer.

"How the hell do I know if they look at that a lot. I am telling you they look and see if they can tell how large it is."

"But how can they tell if it's all covered up?"

"You're hopeless Chuckie. You really are. I am using all my self restraint right about now to keep from strangling you."

"Ok Bobby, I am listening. I promise not to interrupt." I was ashamed and embarrassed that I was becoming such a difficult pupil. I may have misconstrue d his crooked smile as a bid for sympathy.

"Ok, now there's a dance coming up in a few weeks. It's just a mixer dance and you can come solo. What I want you to do is get a rag or a dish towel and stuff it down the front of your pants. When the girls check out your pants they will see the big bulge and think your really hung down there and it will excite them and they will practically ask you out to the car to make out with them." His eyes shifted around the parking lot to see if anyone could overhear or was listening to our conversation.

"Suppose I have to go pee?" I argued.

"Take the freaking thing out then if ya gotta pee and don't forget to put it back!" His face flushed and the cords in his neck stood out and stiffened.

"Gee, Bobby, it sounds kinda deceptive. I mean what if she reaches down and...."

"Will you stop it right now!" Bobby screamed interrupting my sentence and wounding my sense of pride once again.

"Now pay attention, Chuckie. I will be at the dance with Sue Bishop. More than likely I will be in the school chapel later on after the dance gets going good. It'll be my chance to just to be alone with her. If you need me for anything, just come down there and find me. Now do you have a rubber in case you get lucky?

"A rubber what?" I said curtly.

"A condom, a safe, a prophylactic," Bobby said groaning and struggling with my teenage ignorance.

"Oh, one of those slimy skinny balloons that you roll out over two fingers? Billy Paquette use to keep one in his wallet for show and scare away the girls on the corner. His mother found it and made him throw it away because the foil pouch it came in was all worn out from sitting on it for so long. They make great water bombs, to throw around or drop off a porch on someones head. No, I don't have one of them. Do you have an extra one?" I asked envious of his wisdom in such matters.

"What do I look like Trojan Salesman?" Bobby's expressive eyes informed me he was just a few moments away from dulling my senses with a fist.

"Just get one Chuckie, from somewhere, anywhere. I don't give a damn now what you do! Now I have a class, I'll see ya later."

He wished me luck and that was the completion of my counseling instruction until the night of the dance. If Nancy wouldn't see me again, I concluded, maybe I could get lucky with another girl there. I started to experiment with the "rag in the pants" look and had some friends over to my house to give me their opinion. Well, one thing led to another, and we got sidetracked a bit from Bobby's recommendation of a dish towel. The day came for the dance and I left the house with a small Polish kielbasa sausage duct taped to my inner thigh. From the look of it pulsating against the thin fabric of my pants, I was the most well hung man in America. Most everyone there at the dance gasped in shock when they witnessed my blacksmith's anvil become a rhythmic swaying bulge protruding through my dress pants almost down to my knee.

I was still seated in the car waiting for the dance to fill up a bit more when Bobby came over and asked how it was going.

"Hey Chuckie, did you do what I told ya to do?" His eyes surveyed and swept the parking lot impulsively looking for more ladies.

"Yeah, I think I'm all set now. It's a little uncomfortable but I hope it works," I replied squirming a bit and forcing a hurried smile.

"Bring that condom I told you about in case you get lucky? I could send a couple of hot chics your way later on, so have that condom ready so you won't waste time fumbling looking for it later." He placed a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and critically looked at himself in the side mirror of my car.

"Um, I couldn't get a condom, Bobby, so I brought a Glad sandwich bag and an elastic," I said gloating at my accomplishment. "From the kitchen," I added.

"A what?" Bobby rested his elbows the window edge and removed the toothpick from the corner of the mouth.

"A sandwich bag. You know, those TV advertised Glad sandwich bags with the flap top that folds over to keep the sandwich nice and fresh," I said smiling and nodding awaiting his magical approval of my idea.

"You have a sandwich bag over your pecker?" he asked knitting his eyebrows together in disbelief.

"With the flip top too. There's a difference, Bobby. And I tied it around it with the elastic rubber band. I thought it was a good idea to keep it in place easy that way," I snickered proudly.

"Chuckie, don't tell anyone that ok, please." Bobby gave me a puzzled frown and staggered away from the car.

Between having the sandwich bag over my manhood and a kielbasa with duct tape down inside my pants, you had to know it was a formula for an impending disaster.

Going to a Catholic High School dance chaperoned by nuns, was not the best place to be strutting my "stuff". Especially when the duct tape finally worked free and the kielbasa fell out of my pant leg onto the gymnasium floor. Naturally after a few shrieks and gasps of surprise by other guests, I was escorted out of the dance area and immediately brought into the chapel to meet the priest for a severe and stern reprimand.

"Sister Bernadette, have you seen Father Mulvey? It is imperative I speak to him at once concerning this student," she asked in a heated voice which meant I was on the threshold of severe disciplinary measures.

"He was here, Sister Catharine. Let me help you find him."

As myself, Sister Catharine and Sister Bernadette approached the altar, the wooden door to the confessional booth suddenly opened wide and an intoxicated Bobby Richardson and Sue Bishop fell out into the aisle between the pews. Both were panting and were partially undressed from a most heated make out session from within the confessional booth and continued their romantic escapade of heavy petting oblivious to our audience gathering around them.

As religious mouths dropped in shock, and the stabbing pains of guilt surrounded the amorous couple, I decided it may be a best time to just turn around without being noticed, confidently adjust my pants, and slowly exit the Chapel of Love.










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