It Almost Killed Wally

*Red window is the offending window.

Setting: Spring of 1987 3rd Floor Dr. Holcomb’s Classroom

In 1986, the high school received a group of first year teachers that were in a word. Horrible. Some might have been in their “very first year”, some were simply new to this school. It was such a bad hiring cycle that the next year the gentlemen that had a hand in hiring the majority of them found himself teaching 10th grade English and being the advisor to the Newspaper and Yearbook classes. Talk about a demotion.

What made it so bad? I’m not sure if it was simply their incompetence or if it was a bit of that mixed with a rowdy group of students spread out over two to three graduating classes.  One of the hires was Dr. Martin Holcomb. On the first day of class, he described himself as an “esteemed scientist”, while stuttering a little bit. He sounded a lot like Detective Greg Medavoy from “NYPD Blue” who was portrayed by actor Gordon Clapp, and he looked like a shorter and thinner version of actor Richard Kind, who has had numerous bit roles over time but only had ¼th of the mouth. If you throw in his bulging pocket protector and decade old glasses, you could tell right off the bat he might have a tough year.

He might have been an extremely bright man, but he lacked people skills. Beyond that he lacked the ability to talk to teenagers as opposed to talking at teenagers often over their heads. He was just a bad fit for a classroom. Or in the very least a high school class room. He might have been better suited teaching advanced science classes at a university, or even more so stuck in a lab somewhere.

He never said why he wanted to teach. He drove about an hour and a half each day to do so. A fact that simply added to the confusion. He had a much shorter drive to the “Research Triangle”, but maybe that is where he was working beforehand. Maybe being in a lab was burning him out and he needed a change.

He lasted one year. Then vanished, never to be heard from again. No, not in a Jimmy Hoffa sort of way, more in a “get me the hell away from these bastard students”, type of way.  The class “Physical Science” was mostly taken by 9thgraders, and a select few 10th and 11th graders that had their schedules screwed by the incompetent guidance counselor. Overall I’d say it was 80% freshman, 15% sophomores and 5% juniors.

“Marty”, as the students would often call him, which was always quickly corrected by its “Dr. Holcomb”, had a hard time controlling his class. He had a hard time getting them to pay attention, and if the end of year testing was in place back then, it would be hard to imagine a high % of students passing them.

It was so bad, that the principal had to have a lot of work regraded by an experienced science teacher because at one point roughly 90% of the students were failing the class. Maybe he was getting even for all of the spit wads that went flying by his ears, or sticking to his glasses when they were perched on top of his head.

Each day he would write each student’s name on the chalk board. Whether you were a “good” student, meaning you behaved, or whether you were more of a “trouble maker”, each day, A to Z, in each class. 6 classes a day at that point in time. How much time was wasted doing that on a daily basis? If he caught you talking, not paying attention or goofing off, you got a mark by your name. If you got 5 marks you got detention. Needless to say he was the king of tally marks and the poor bastard always put it on the chalk board by the door, and at times someone would ask to go to the bathroom and give them a swipe on the way in and out, and he’d notice when going to add a mark that some were missing; it confused the hell out of him each and every time. Why he didn’t photocopy a list of names and keep the tally marks at his desk is beyond me.

While there are no records to go over, I would say that out of the 180 school days there were very few that didn’t have kids staying after class for detention. The bulk of those likely came at the start of school year, before he created his tally mark system.

One afternoon in the spring,12-15 kids had detention.  Dr. Holcomb would spend that time writing notes down on the overhead projector for the next day. Each class their own color of ink. Yeah, he was a bit of a nerd, but that’s okay. It makes sense to separate it from class to class, but what doesn’t make sense is to not keep each “physical science” class on the same set of notes. Again, there is no telling how much time he wasted.

Well, on this particular afternoon, the intercom creaked and said, “Dr. Holcomb, please come to principal Gordon’s office”. So to prevent the “detentionees”(yeah it’s made up), to prevent them from leaving he padlocked the door shut. Many of the doors back then instead of having keyed locks that worked, had a latch and padlock on them.  That sounds safe doesn’t it?  Can we say fire hazard? When you add in the fact it’s on the third floor on the back side of the school, overlooking the “smoking area”, yeah there was a smoking area where kids that had “parental permission” could smoke or chew tobacco.  Yes, it was an entirely different world and no, there wasn’t a certified “make out area”, where kids could get parental permission to feel up their girlfriends or boyfriends.

The door is locked, so a couple of kids start looking out the back windows. Another goes up to the overhead and starts to erase his notes. Others are talking in a group. But Richard Herman had other plans. He said aloud, “How many of you hate this bastard?”, that was acknowledged in various ways, a head nod here, a “yep” and an “of course” there.  Richard gets out of his seat and goes back to the back window. Raises it all the way up. These were pretty damn big windows. He goes up to the front of the class room and grabs the overhead projector and takes it back and slings it out the window. While there is no official weight, it would be safe to say those were 15-20 lbs maybe heavier?  It crashes with a bang and some yelling.  Wally Morrison, one of the school’s custodians was out back with a couple of students smoking some cigarettes. Well, at least it was assumed to be cigarettes but who knows.

He’s yelling up at the window and starts stomping towards the doors to come inside.  At this point Dr. Holcomb returns, unlocks the lock and comes in and looks stumped. He’s confused. Looks around his desk, looks around his table, and then he asks “where is the overhead”? Nobody answers. Not a peep. The classroom is finally silent. Again, and a bit louder, “where is the overhead?”, someone says “Mrs. Berry, the librarian came to get it to service it”. Quick thinking. He turns to leave the classroom to go down the hall to the library and locks the door shut again.

By this time, a pissed off Wally Morrison has made up the three levels of stairs. Wally was about 5’8” , 250 some odd pounds. Not being in the best of shape, he was out of breath and angry. He had some scraggly facial hair and curling locks falling out from under his ball cap that he likely wore 24/7.  Yes, like most other high school janitors he had a key ring with 131 keys on it. To make this story even stranger, he didn’t have a key to Dr. Holcomb’s lock. He’s knocking on the door, yelling “which of you bastards threw that overhead out the window”. The classroom again sat in silence. The assistant principal is there by now, summoned by Wally on his walkie-talkie, he didn’t have a key to the lock either. He was another stumpy, short portly man with about 4 lbs of beard, Not quite a “Duck Dynasty” beard but just 200 times the amount of facial hair as the average hairy man. He and Wally start arguing about neither one of them having a key.

At this point, Dr. Holcomb is coming back to the class room and sees the two men at the door. He asks “What’s going on?”. Asst. Principal Ted Malone turns and says, “Well for starters one of your students tossed the overhead out the window and it almost killed Wally”, he continued, “and secondly neither of us have a key for your God Damn lock now open the damn door.”

Dr. Holcomb halfway acting like he’s a student and 15 years old starts to stammer and fumbles the key and finally gets the door open. “Wh wh whi which one which one of you wh which one of you threw the overhead out the window?” Silence. Nothing. Zero decibels. Not even a cricket. Mr. Malone asks basically the same question. Again silence. Malone says “We’ll sit here till midnight if it takes it.” At that point, Richard Herman says, “I did it now what?”. Wally was about 6 feet from him starts towards him and Malone grabs him while Dr. Holcomb looks like he’s in some 1960’s basketball stance trying to guard Bob Cousy. That was funny.  Wally might have been a grown man at around 40, but he would have had his ass beaten if he would have got closer to Herman. Even at 15, Herman was six feet something, a solid buck-eighty, he eventually walked on at South Carolina State, but got kicked off the team for an argument with a coach. It would have been a bad day for Wally.

Mr. Malone escorted Herman to the office. Gave him 5 licks with a paddle, gave him, 3 days of out of school suspension and he had to pay to replace the overhead. Dr. Holcomb got reamed out as well for the personal “lock” on the door, but he got a new door out of it, one with a lock and that started the process of replacing the doors one by one. Too bad it took them awhile to replace the library doors (more on that at some point, that poor Mrs. Berry and her withdrawals.) To think it all started because someone almost killed Wally.

Ski Trip From Hell

skitripSetting: Beech Mountain Ski Resort


This one will be a little different, it will be told from a first person perspective.

I grew up playing every sport I could, I spent an uninspiring summer playing tennis at the local parks and recreation department when I should have been swimming and playing golf. I played 4 different sports in high school over the years, gave college football a shot till a knee injury and life ended that.

Today, I can’t say I actively play any sports. Shoot baskets here and there, but this story will go back 25 years. Some friends of mine were planning a ski trip to Sugar Mountain, Beech Mountain, somewhere, just a little get away. I hadn’t planned on skiing since I was about 5 months out of said knee operation, but when you have a drunken lunatic friend calling you a pussy, you do things you know you shouldn’t.

We get up to the resort, rent the skis, boots and poles head to the bar, took a few shots and headed out to the slope. We got on the chair lift, and while I wouldn’t say that I’m afraid of heights, I do like being in control of what is going on. Sitting 30-40 feet up in a chair with said drunken lunatic isn’t what I would call being in control.

Well, we get to the end of the lift and he’s like just let your skis hit the ground and move forward. It was new to me. Earlier in my teen years spent many a summer behind a boat on water skis. Completely different concepts in my opinion. I couldn’t move. DL(Drunken lunatic) was trying to help me move, but the chair lift was pushing into us. The staff was able to lift the seat over us, but he couldn’t stop the next pair of people from coming in on top of us, or the pair after that. It was a mess.  I already hated my decision. I would have been much better off growing roots into the bar stool as I became numb. Much better off.

The mess gets cleaned up, we get over to the side, and along the edge of the property was one of those orange emergency retention type fences that separated the resort from half million-dollar mountain getaways or homes.

I got up on my feet, got turned around, and started moving, and couldn’t turn. Here I am headed right into that blaze orange safety fence. Tangled up, pissed off, hating life, 213% unfreaking happy.  I get up, get headed in the right direction, and it’s slow. It’s 20 feet, turn fall. 30 feet, turn fall. Again, hating life.

I don’t recall the length of this trail, but it was the longest/highest Beech Mountain had to offer. I finally got up and going pretty good and looked in ahead and saw a little girl in front of me. I’m thinking “move get out of my way, I suck at this and I don’t want to freight-train you.”


Wiped her out. Couldn’t do anything about it. This little 8-10 year old girl hops up collects herself, turns around, puts her hands in her ears and sticks her tongue out and takes off. I’m lying there half wanting to throw a snow ball at her, but thankful I didn’t hurt her.

I reach in my pocket, pull out a flask, kill the Jack Daniels I had in it. Sat there for a minute then I realized people on the chair lift were pointing and laughing at me. That pissed me off. Pulled the gloves off and started nailing a couple of them with snow balls.  At that point I had no clue whether I was 25%/50%/75% down the mountain. Got up and continued down the mountain, still hating life and far more than 213% unhappy.

It was still 15-20 feet, spill. No fun at all. I turned a corner and could finally see the lodge so after my next spill, I took the skis off put them over my shoulder and simply walked the rest of the way down. I would have left the skis and poles somewhere up the mountain if it wasn’t for a deposit. In total, I’m guessing it was about 2 hours or so to get down the mountain. Passed by my friends a couple of times. Hating life.

I turned everything in, went to the lodge, ordered a drink or ten, and swore off snow skiing for the rest of my life.

A year or so later my friends had another ski trip planned. I told them I would go, but I’ll be in the lodge the whole night. The day we were leaving, I had a bad cold.  It was cold, snowing, a little ice on the roads. Was heading home to pack a bag.

I started sneezing. 4-5 times in a row. Next thing I know that tiny little CRX was up under a full size Bronco. Odd events. Small town events. I rear end a town policeman in his private vehicle. His wife worked in the Accounting department at the same place my dad was an accountant at. Small town events. Portable phones(car phones), were relatively new then. The policemen had them. He asked me if I wanted to call my dad. I said “sure”. I called him, up said “I was in a wreck”. His response was “where”, not “are you okay”. I said “just walk outside”. The wreck occurred right in front of his office. He wasn’t happy. Of course he wasn’t happy, how could he be?

We pulled the car into the parking lot. My shoulders were bothering me.  We went by the hospital got some x-rays. My bad shoulder had come out of socket again but I had learned over time to put it back in. The other one was dislocated and a fresh injury. A sling, and a prescription and I was sent on my way.

I drove the crumpled mess home. Luckily it was still able to drive. Packed the bag, took a shower and called one of my friends to tell him I was ready whenever he was.

We head up the mountain and the idiots are still trying to talk me into skiing. I said “nope, my pain pills, sling and I will sit here in this warm lodge and take in the atmosphere”, or something along those lines.

So my second trip to Beech Mountain was far more fun than my first, even though I was throbbing in pain periodically.

Melvin Vaneaton Martine


Melvin Vaneaton Martine

Setting: High School Football locker-room 1987

A bittersweet story simply because Melvin is no longer with us. He was hit by a truck late one night simply walking home from his job at Big Lots.

During the first half, we received a punt and matriculated down the field killing the clock running the split back veer to opposite sides of the field. The quarterback couldn’t really read the option yet, so he was just blindly giving it or keeping it, and pitching it from time to time.

This was the opening game to the 1987 junior varsity season and the first game under a new coaching staff. The way it worked was that the football coaches coached both the varsity and junior varsity, we practice together, scrimmaged each other etc, and two of the assistant football coaches coached the JV game usually with one being responsible for the offense, the other for the defense.

We rarely threw the ball. Peyton Manning could have gone to school there and he would have played tight end or tackle.

We got down to about the 4-yard line with less than a minute to go. The quarterback called Split right 21, which simply a dive option to the left. The right halfback would hit the hole in between the center/guard. Again, the QB would either give it, ride out a fake and turn it up with the option to pitch. On this particular play the QB didn’t give it and he was about to get smacked so he pitched it. He pitched it out to Melvin who got rocked even worse but somehow spun and made it into the end zone for a touchdown. We missed the extra point, went into the half with a 6-0 lead.

We come back out, play the 2nd half, score two more times on two short runs, miss two more extra points and win 18-0. We skip forward a bit to the locker room. Everybody is getting undressed to take a shower, before eating a bagged meal that the opponent’s athletic foundation had fixed since it was a two hour ride home.

Coaches Jerry Floyd and Tommy Dinkins walk in and tell everyone to hurry up so we can get on the road. Floyd stops and looks at Melvin and says “Goddamn Melvin did you shit your pants?”  At this point everyone looks toward him and for some reason some kids wore their “tighty whities” over their jock. Melvin was one of em. He turns around and says “Coach, coach, coach, let me me tell ya what” halfway acting like he was impersonating Ric Flair.

“Coach, on that run at the end of the first half, it was either shit my pants and score, or fumble, so I shit my pants and scored”. Floyd looks at him, smirks, shakes his head and smiles, and says, “so you’re saying he literally knocked the shit out of you?” “Yeah I guess he did”, Melvin responded.

Needless to say there was a pair of football pants, and a pair of underwear thrown away that night. No huge loss since the JV simply wore those crappy solid white practice pants anyway.

At this point the story should be over, but there was the ride home. Again, it was about a two to two and half hour ride. About halfway into it, Melvin yelled up to Coach Floyd and asked if he could pull over so that he could piss. Floyd responded “No Melvin just piss out the window.”

Late September on an activity bus its still pretty damn hot. All the windows were down and Melvin was sitting 3/4ths of the way back on the right hand side of the bus.  He stands up in the seat. Unzips his pants, pulls his pecker out and says “you better watch out coach, it’s dragging the ground, sparks are flying”.

Again, the windows were open and Cale Bartles and Mark James, woke screaming saying shut the window, it’s starting to rain. They quickly figured out it wasn’t raining.

Rest in Peace Melvin, this story lives forever.






The extend-a dong

Setting: Strip club, High School Parking lot and an Interstate running through the Carolinas circa 1999

This is one of those stories that comes from dumb luck. Kelly Nevins, Keith Singer, Warren Parker and Jerry Floyd went out of to visit a COMPUSA so that Floyd could pick up some memory for his computer.  They were in Kelly’s mother’s minivan mostly for comfort. After picking up the memory, they stopped at got a bite to eat at a Ham’s. A simple sandwich joint not far from COMPUSA.

The group ate and kicked back a few cold beers and then decided to head back home. They started ridiculing Kelly as they were leaving for not leaving a tip, and the other three picked up his share for him driving down. At this point he couldn’t drive, and Keith only had two beers so he was now in command of the minivan. They were headed towards the interstate when Floyd said “take the next right”. He did and pulled into a parking lot and he started shaking his head. Kelly, a bit drunk at this point yells, “Is this a titty bar?” Floyd, his former high school football coach shakes his head yeah and Kelly holds up a hand for a high five. Floyd looks around the car asking “you guys game?” looking at Keith and Warren. Keith says “whatever you guys want to do but I’m not buying Kelly any beers”, Warren says through his New Hampshire accent, “I’m not going in unless Kelly buys the beers”, Kelly said let’s go, and they crawl out.

They are at the door, and Floyd looks back at the Keith and says “don’t whip the bouncers this time”, Keith smiles and says “no promises”. This all stems from another story that could find its way here at some point.

Maybe there are nicer joints around, but it is safe to say, if you’ve seen one topless bar, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Of course there are some that are far worse than others as well, but that comes with the territory, but they are all somewhat related.  Dark, smoky, the rooms littered with fluorescent and neon lights and eardrum numbing music bouncing wall to wall.  Of course, half dressed women on a stage, off on the side giving table dances are all over the place too.

The get a table somewhat close to a side stage, they weren’t front row or anything like that, but they could see all that they needed to. Kelly gives the waitress his credit card, following through with his condition that Warrant stipulated. Keith and Floyd found that to be stunning. They each got a table dance, just at typical night and it was getting late.  Warren, Floyd and Keith walked out while Kelly settled the bar tab.  At the front of the building was an Adult book store/toy shop. They walked in since it was cold. They could see where the minivan was parked and could watch Kelly come out of the door. So they looked around.

Floyd had a the idea of picking up what was called a “penis extender”, a prosthesis looking device that had rubber/latex end to it, not quite looking like a dildo, but it had hose like attachment to it that the use would roll down his shaft. 12.99. Floyd say I’ve got 5 towards it to tie to the antenna just to see if he notices. Warren and Keith quickly anti up a 5 spot of their own.

They hurry out to the van and tie the extend-a-dong to the antenna and wait on Kelly who had the keys.   He finally comes out of the bar and unlocks the door.  They get in, get the heat cranked up and are headed towards home.  They stop off at a Waffle House to grab some grub, and then they get back in the van and back on to the interstate. This time Kelly was sitting behind Keith, who was still driving and says “what is that on the antenna?” Keith appears to bend down and look and says. “What are you talking about?” Kelly then pushes his shoulder and says “look at the antenna there is something on it”. Kelly continues “Coach Floyd, lean out there and see what it is”, Floyd looks back at him and gruffly says. “Kelly, did you take a hit of LSD at the Waffle House? I don’t see anything”.  Warren pops in with “Yeah Kelly, that LSD must be groovy”, again in his New Hampshire accent.

They finally make it home and pull into the parking lot at the football coaches’ offices/locker-room where the others had parked. Kelly gets out and walks around to the antenna and sees the toy tied to it and starts a long cackling laugh with “what the fuck is this?” included in it.  Warren pipes up “we hear you need a little help in that department.” “Oh fuck you Parker”, Kelly says to his friend.

They leave, as far as we know that was it.

But it wasn’t.

Kelly’s mom taught with Warren and Jerry. So When Kelly needed to stop by his mom’s van one day to put something in it for his dad, he saw Coach Floyd’s pickup truck sitting there and he tied to the trailer hitch. Floyd was in the weight room getting in a couple of sets before practice when the head football coach, Coach Slessom came into the weight room yelling “Jerry, what the hell is on the back of your trailer hitch?” Without fully knowing, he had a pretty good idea. He and Coach Dinkins, walk out the side door to look, and he just starts shaking his head and saying “that little bastard”.  After practice, they were talking about it and Warren couldn’t stop laughing about it. He was teasing Floyd about it saying Kelly got him good”.

The next morning when Floyd rolled into the teachers’ parking lot, he saw that Warren was already at school, so he thought it was fair to give him some of his own medicine and tied the dong to his antenna.

At the end of the day, Warren was walking out with a couple of teachers after school, when the Spanish teacher asked him, “hey Warren does that help with the reception”, Warren turns looking at his car, and immediate says, “that hairy bastard” as his face turned bright red. He took it off put it in his pocket and went on down to practice. The other coaches got a good laugh out of that story too. Floyd looks at him, and he says “well we know it comes from Kelly, so let’s get him back”. Floyd says “Coach Slessom hand me a Sharpie out of the desk”.   He writes


in big bold black letters.

They leave and go and tie to the windshield wiper on Kelly’s Jeep Cherokee.

Well those plans kind of backfired to a point. They didn’t know that Kelly, his girlfriend Tina, and his parents were going to take the Cherokee to a Carolina/Wake Forest basketball game that night. Kelly had been fussing about the brakes on the way to the game, so Aubrey his dad, said well I’ll drive home just to see how they are.

After the game they pile into the Cherokee, Aubrey and Beth in the front while Kelly and Tina were in the back seat. They get on the interstate and starts to rain out of nowhere. Aubrey fumbles with the switch to cut the wipers on and they start and there is this mass thumping on the windshield with every interval of the wipers. “Kelly what the hell is this” Aubrey yells back at his son. “I don’t know Dad pull over.”

They pull over on the edge of the interstate, Aubrey hits the flashers and they get out and Aubrey reaches for it and says
“What the hell” as he turns it and reads the message on it. He tears it off and says “here you go son, it looks like this is yours”. Kelly avoids the throw like it is hot water, and then reaches down to pick it simply saying “Those bastards” as he tosses it off into the tall grass/trees.

The prank lived longer than most, but died not too far from where it started. Maybe it is still out there. Maybe it’s been torn into pieces by a DOT mower.


What a Combination!


What a Combination

Setting: Circa late fall 1989: This venture takes place in a span of a half mile in between Dr. Hooper’s veterinarian’s office and a convenience store called “The Pantry” at that point in time.


The Dilger household was a bit quiet, Andy & Berta were still at work, Abbie-Lynn was off at cheerleading practice and Gina had friend over who was conveniently Andrew’s girlfriend Jackie. Andrew conveniently had a friend over who was Keith, who Gina always had plans to seduce.

Andrew & Jackie were in his room, about half dressed, and with her hand on his cock as he was finger banging her like it was going out of style.

Downstairs on the couch, Keith had pants and boxers around his ankles with his cock in Gina’s mouth and a finger or two sliding in and out of her wet snatch. She was up on all 4’s on the couch so it was the most convenient position.

The phone started to ring, and ring and ring.  The house had 2 lines, one basically for the kids and one for the parents. The phone kept ringing and ringing. Neither Gina nor Andrew wanted to answer it.  Finally, the parent’s line started going off, and they let the machine catch that one. It was Andy calling. “Andrew, Gina, if you are there, I need your help. I am with Jackson at Dr. Nicks office and Sam has escaped his cage.

Gina took her mouth off of Keith’s cock and said “Jesus fucking Christ, adjusted her skirt, slid her panties up as Keith started to make himself decent and she went up and knocked on Andrew’s door.   After a few moments they all hoped in his Blazer to take off to Dr. Nicks.

Sam, the cat, an 8 or 9 year old tabby had darted from Jackson’s arms following a visit to the vet. He took off down towards a drainage ditch. Jackson went inside the office, and called Andy at the bank, who then as mentioned above started to call his son and step daughter to recruit their help.

He could’ve called the National Guard and a startled cat is not going to come out of pipe like that.

Andy’s cursing under his breath when the kids arrive and the girls go down to the ditch to try to coax Sam out of the pipe. Andy looks at Andrew & Keith and says “Which one of you fools smells like pussy?”, they both shrugged their shoulders as Jackson walked closer giving them a bit of a sniff and wry smile crossed his face.

Andy gives Andrew a 10 dollar bill and tells him to run up to The Pantry, a chain of convenience stores/gas stations littered across the southeast, and get some wet cat food.

Andrew and Keith hop in the Blazer and take the short drive. The only cat food they had was dry, and Keith suggested to buy some sardines. That would likely draw the portly Sam out of the pipe more than any type of kibble.

On his way up to the counter to pay, Andrew stops and picks up one of those king sized Hershey bars. Andrew was never one to pass up an opportunity for a free snack, or the chance to pocket the change from his dad.   He lays the candy bar and the can of sardines on the container and the clerk, a male in his early 20’s dressed head to toe in black, except for his pink socks and his pink scarf, which somehow seemed to match part of his hair which appeared to painted pink with one of those Halloween type hair sprays. In his lispy voice he says, “Sardines and chocolate, what a combination”,  Andrew looks at Keith, Keith sorta chuckles, Andrew looks back at the clerk and says “un huh”, and the clerk say that will be $3.19. Andrew hands him the 10 and collects his change and they go back to the car and head back to Dr. Nicks.

The girls had failed to coax Sam out of the pipe. Andrew gave the sardines to his dad who know cut up part of a box to make a plate out of it and put the sardines on it. Handed it to Gina who then put it a foot or so in front of the pipe.

Andrew told Andy and Jackson the story about the clerk and Andy simply says, “Fucking cock sucker”, while Jackson says, “He sounds like a 3 dollar bill”. Of course the old banker would have some form of derogatory slang based on currency.

Well, the fat cat in Sam started smelling the sardines and finally poked his head and started sniffing and lapping at them as Gina was able to pick him up, and him Jackson’s car.

Jackson thanked them all for their help and they each went on their way. Adversity solved.




Setting: Kroger’s Highway 17, Myrtle Beach 1989

kroger_FotoSketcherThis is another entry into the Dilger Family Beach trip from the summer of ’89. On this particular night Andrew and Keith were able to escape any after dinner family activities, which basically meant they were able to ditch the fifteen year old step sister and her friend and head out to see what Myrtle Beach had to offer.

Earlier in the week at a stop light Andrew had run into a girl (Tammy) he met about month before when he tagged along with the senior class of 89. They exchanged #’s, and ended up meeting later that night at the campus of her high school. Keith and her friend (Stacy) had quite an introduction, with them being about half dressed when Andy & Tammy walked up from touring the campus.

Andrew called Tammy earlier in the day, and they planned on meeting the girls to hang out on the beach later that night. Stacy actually lived in Cherry Grove which was where the condo Dilger family was staying at. Tammy worked two jobs during the summer one at Dick’s Last Resort and one at the Gay Dolphin Gift Shop. This particular night she was working at Dick’s and wanted to take a shower before actually meeting up with them.

Andrew had asked his father Andy if he would allow them to take some beer and he said only if you were around the complex, and Andrew tried to explain they’d be down the beach, that they wouldn’t be driving, that they might take the golf cart but not the Blazer, but Andy said you’ll have to get it on your own. Keith winked at him and said no problem.

After dinner they were riding around just killing time waiting on Tammy to get off at around 11 so they could meet her and Stacy at around midnight.  So they met the girls at a Kroger’s parking lot planning on riding boy/girl boy/girl to either the condo or to Stacy’s house.  Tammy asked if they had any beer, and Andrew said “no, but we can try to buy some here”.  She looked at him odd and said “okay whatever”.  They go in and grab a cart, and they are looking over the people at the registers. An older guy with bad toupee that reminded them of an even worse dressed version of the basketball coach at the high school, a younger girl that looked like she was in her mid-20’s and short plump black woman in her mid-40’s that reminded them of Nell Carter.

Keith had an idea. He starts off with the cart, gets a couple bags of chips, a package of chocolate chip cookies, a bottle of Pepto Bismol for Andy and some Hawaiian Tropic sun screen for one of Andrew’s step sisters. Andy looks at him and says “what about the beer”?  “Watch this” is Keith’s only response. They go down an isle where the Coke/Pepsi and other sodas are located and he finds the IBC Root Beer bottles. He starts loading the cart up.  He takes all six of the 6-packs off the shelf and they head for far side of the store where the beer section is.root_FotoSketcher

Keith started trading out dark brown beer bottles for the dark brown bottles of IBC Root Beer simply looking for something that resembled the bottles of root beer. Andrew is shaking his head half way thinking “we’re about to go to jail and this will work”.  They have 5 six packs of beer, they don’t recall the brand and a six pack of IBC root beer. They push the cart up to isle with the shot plump black lady and he puts the chips, cookies, sun screen, pepto, everything else that they have, and the six pack of IBC Root Beer.

The lady rings everything up and then says “I’s needs to sees some ID, yous look to young to buys beer.” Andrew’s face flushes, and Keith cocks his head and looks at her odd and says “ID for root beer?”  He reaches over tilts the six pack on his side and points to the packaging and Nell puts both hands on her hips and says “Well I’ll be,  that rootamabeer get me every time.” Keith says “we have six of them total, this one and 5 in the cart and we need a bag of ice”.  She rings it up, they pay, get their change and push the cart out about the time a deputy sheriff is walking in. They nod at each other and they go put the beer in the back of the blazer.

The girls ask “how did you do that”? Andrew tells the story almost as if it was his idea as they empty the shopping cart. Keith is driving the Blazer with Stacy as Andrew is in the VW convertible with Tammy. They pull into the condo complex one after another and Andrew goes up to get the Playmate cooler off the porch to put on the back of one of the golf carts to head off to Stacy’s house. Andy, Berta, Gina and Renae follow him down the steps to the parking lot and Andy asks “how the hell did you buy that much beer”, Andrew again tells the story but includes the name Keith a time or two just half worried that his dad might get pissed at him, but Andy shakes his head and simply says “rootamabeer stupid fucking nigger”,

Needless to say that they made two more “rootamabeer” purchases at the same Kroger’s with the same short plump black lady before heading back home, and used the same set up a few times at local grocery stores once they were home.


Now the funniest part of the story has to be a bit unknown, because you know at various points in time following this, that some random adult goes into Kroger’s or one of the local stores, and blindly buys a six of beer gets it home, and either opens up to a taste of root beer, or notices it after he’s got it in the car and then is forced to argue that is what he actually bought. Talk about wanting a hidden camera.