Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Miami: The Neighborhood Girls- Prologue

Like all good rampages, it started off slow but worked its way up to a blistering crescendo. It began rather unremarkably with a chance encounter between a blacked-out Striker and a mystery neighbor whom neither of us had met. The next morning, a groggy Striker woke up with a new number in his phone, and very faint memories of a late-night conversation with a girl who lived one house down. I prodded him to call, but he displayed an initial reticence, cryptically noting that he remembered her to be “very small”.

He made the first call on our way up to Orlando or Tampa or some other Florida city on a mission to get laid. We gave her the good cop/bad cop routine on the phone, and since she dug it, we quickly stepped it up to bad cop/extremely bad cop. Striker uncharacteristically inhabited the role of extremely bad cop and this girl was loving it.

Although I had no idea what she looked like, I was excited to have a contact in the neighborhood. It would bring us a safety and legitimacy that’s crucial to infiltrating the UM social scene. We had an in with the hottest sorority, but nailing one of them was a crapshoot (with the hot ones, at least) since they were so into the Miami scene- the money, the VIP, the bullshit. Striker and I both wanted a 2nd tier- a B team of girls to keep us busy while we waited for the hot chicks to get horny enough to give us lowly dirtbags a chance. This neighbor could open all kinds of doors for us.

We called her on our way back into the city and demanded that she bring a friend to our house. Both girls were instructed to wear dresses. As it turned out, Striker and I were pretty beat from our drive, so we just sat around ripping the bong and watching cartoons. The girls had apparently taken our request seriously, and sat around in dresses waiting for a call that never came. The next night, Striker was able to convince the neighbor to give us a second chance and she came over to meet us. I was shirtless, sitting back on the easy chair with the bong in my hand and the TV remote on my chest. Striker was slightly more appropriately attired, wearing a T-shirt and drinking some kind of clear or brown booze.

I was disappointed when this little nugget of a girl walked into the house. She was clearly less than 5 feet tall, though substantially larger than a midget. And so this girl, Little Jerk, sat on our couch and tried making small talk with us. I remained slumped in my chair, eyes fixed on the screen, loudly burping and smoking pot between sips of my booze, rarely casting my gaze in the direction of her small, finch-like face. She was not ugly, but her face was not pleasant enough to entice a sober man to fuck such a small, strange creature. Striker, on the other hand, was ignoring her small talk, riposting her pleasantries with aggressively pointed sexual remarks. She seemed to enjoy this kind of poor treatment, and desperate for male attention, she answered every probing question that Striker asked. Soon enough she was (at our request) sitting on our laps, bending over so we could look at her ass, and other things of that nature. Eventually it came out that she was a virgin, and, as she was also a 22 year old senior, I figured that she was a complete loser and had no worthwhile friends. I went to my room, jacked off and went to bed. At this point, Striker was showing porn to Little Jerk, and I forget exactly what happened, but I know he did something to her body with some part of his.

I had underestimated Little Jerk’s potential, as, over time, she would introduce us to a multitude of different cliques of girls, all of whom belonged to a larger social umbrella. With our Scorched Earth policy, Striker and I dismantled and sexually decimated this sprawling circle of friends. Friendships were destroyed, roommates stopped speaking, and several drunken crying fits erupted in bars as a direct result of our actions.

Did we set out to disrupt the emotional well-being of this otherwise innocent group of young University of Miami students? Not really, although we were pretty amused by it. All we did was follow our boners. The weak, treacherous relationships among these girls were not caused by but merely exposed by our sweeping, indiscriminant sexual conquest of their social sphere.

Little Jerk’s clique, localized just one house away, was our entry point into the larger group. Littler Jerk lived with Tess, a bigger blonde girl who wasn’t goodlooking but was kinda sexy nonetheless, as she was often drunk, flirty, and alluded to sucking a good cock. They also had a third roommate, but she was a loser so foul and unremarkable that I can’t even conjure up a single memory which details any information about her existence. Little Jerk’s house was also the hub for meeting MoMo and Little Bumpy Jerk. MoMo was the clear babe of the group, and the only one who would be universally acknowledged as attractive. With fair skin and reddish hair, she had a Mae West, no-bullshit attitude. Little Bumpy Jerk was the best friend of Little Jerk, and remarkably enough, she was the same size. Little Bumpy Jerk had an average looking face but gross acne, hence the ‘bumpy’ moniker*. However, she had a markedly better body than Little Jerk. I think she was in nursing school or something, so she wasn’t around as much.

The group sometimes rolled with a brutish girl with a tightly slicked blonde ponytail by the name of Gary. By her appearance and demeanor, Gary was a militant, out-of-the-closest lesbian, but this was apparently not the case, as she would later prove to us. Gary hung out with a real rag-tag bunch of weirdos that included Pam the Man, Paleozoic, and Big Arms. Paleozoic** was nicknamed by the King during his visit to Miami due to her resemblance to some of the smaller flying reptiles of the Paleozoic Era. Despite its prehistoric quality, her face was pretty in an earthy, Midwestern, early 90’s full-bush amateur porn type way. Pam the Man had a scorching hot body, slim and tight, but she had a face like Paul Stanley with a lightly buttered, baked crust of pimples. She covered this crispy exterior with layers of makeup which made her look like a transvestite. Big Arms had a very cute face but a formless, doughy body and, of course, big arms. A year or so after I left Miami, she appeared on an episode of Room Raiders and was embarrassed in some way which I can’t remember.

Tess was sorority sisters with Cartoon Bunny Korver, a large, debatably attractive, meaty blonde. She was slow-witted and looked like a cross between a cartoon bunny and 76ers forward Kyle Korver. Her roommate was Missy, a mousy but pretty girl whose timid exterior belied an insatiable sexual thirst.

Little Jerk was good friends with Dark Eyes, a sexy girl of ambiguous ethnicity. Dark eyes had a round, plump ass, dark skin and sexy exotic look. Guys wanted to do her and girls wouldn’t admit she was pretty. She worked at the UM gym with MoMo, and so I saw them often, as I snuck in on an almost daily basis.

Within a couple months of meeting Little Jerk, Striker and I had gone through like a tornado, leaving in our wake one lost virginity, two broken ‘best friend’-ships, and a late-night panty raid with German nationals. In the end, every single girl in the group was touched in some way by our prolific sexual conquest. Though we wreaked havoc on this group, my consistent blackouts left me largely unaware of the aftermath of our actions, and I was often confused when my presence was met with rancor among certain cliques. Forthcoming posts will reconstruct the sacking of these social groups one by one.

*Little Jerk is named after a scene from 1990 blockbuster Home Alone. When Macaulay Culkin’s Kevin spills soda, he is harshly rebuked by his Uncle Frank, who gets in his face and sneers, “Look what’cha did, you little jerk!”. One night I amused myself for hours by repeating this phrase to Little Jerk over and over, and the name stuck.

**Paleozoic is not to be confused with Paleosaur, a freshman who, after an episode to be detailed at another time, came to be known as Handjobs.


buck said...

The thing that stifles me is always the details. My memories of destruction and havoc are thankfully recounted by friends, but barely ever by myself. Do you ductape an audio recorder to your chest or try to decipher cryptic notes after a bender?

King said...

that is an ironic statement because Eggman is notorious for blacking out

RAYNOK the EGGMAN said...

Yeah, I had a real blacking out problem, especially in the Miami days. I too relied heavily on my friends to fill in details and missing portions of the night, but the neighborhood girls were easy to remember because we saw them sober all the time.