June Bugs

In my last blog it was mentioned that June Bugs freak me out. This is why.

One of the greatest jobs I ever had was delivering pizza. You may be saying to yourself, “Self, how can this be the greatest job ever?”

Because in porn movies chicks always dig the guy who delivers pizza. That was always the hope and the dream.

That one day I would be called to a sorierty party that was getting out of hand with a pepperoni pizza pie. They would open their door in lace underwear and caring a box of wine. They would look at my young body and invite me inside, “Just a minute while I get the money” they would flirtatiously call as I would slowly be maneuvered towards the couch. I would sit down while being pinned down by several lovely ladies while they asked about my exciting job delivering pizza.

Pretty soon they would begin to tug on my clothes and of course I would protest because this is what is expected of you. They would be weak protests to be sure and I would give into temptation while I was ravaged by a houseful of drunk small town girls.

That was the dream anyway when I first took the job at 18 and still in highschool. It never materialized but it was a fun job no matter what. I lived in a suburban town that had some country to it. My boss was one of the coolest bosses I have ever had and on Saturdays she would let me use her car, which was a convertible, to deliver pizza.

So just take as minute to look at this. I am 17, a highschool football player that a lot of people knew, cruising my town and eventually delivering pizza to every hot chick in my school. I ask you again, who would not love this job. The women tipped better than the men I’m sure because I wore those blue shorts and a tight shirt to work them a little. Come on, want a little taste of Hossman? Give me 3 bucks extra and I might bend over. I had no shame, I liked being looked at, even if it was all in my head.

It’s that moment in life when you realize that you are never, ever going to be as cool as you are now. The only way to be cooler is to be Neil Armstrong when you land on the moon. That’s the only thing that would have made you cooler. Everything was laid out in front of you and your job was fun and required no stress what so ever.

Most of the time when I delivered my pies I was in the Blue Cow. Everyone knows what the Blue Cow because about everyone has had a Blue Cow. This was my 1980 baby blue extended bed pick up truck. One of the greatest cars I have ever owned. And like most people, I named my car the Blue Cow. It seemed funny at the time. Every 17 year old should have a piece of shit car like this.

If I got hit in the parking lot, what the hell do I care? No 17 year old knows how to take care of a car so give him something that can get the shit beat out of it without worry. This was the type of car that if you turned on the A/C you couldn’t make it up the hill. It ran on USED tires because that was all the money I was willing to put into it. There was a point where I can change a tire in less than 5 minutes and always had another used tire ready to go. Not a chick magnet, but it’s like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, the sweetness was on the inside.

This is what I would tool around in on Friday nights to deliver my pizzas. I would make good tips and would get all the free pizza I wanted. Everything about it was greatness.

And the job was exciting as well. The closest I ever got to my porn dream was when a guy answered the door and his girlfriend was topless on the couch. She screamed and ran off while he laughed. I told him that I didn’t need a tip and that that vision would last me through some good dry spells. She would hence forth become the girl in my fantasy that would answer the door in the Sorierty fantasy.

Late on a Friday night we received a new call. It was almost 12 am but we decided to take the order anyway. By this time I was “Head Driver” so being a natural leader, I volunteered to do the run myself. I was also hoping that if it was a prank I would just get to keep the pizza which would later be delivered to my buddies.

I jumped in the Blue Cow and was off like Batman, except Batman never had to push start his batmobile.

The area that I had to go to was very rural. It was out there. It was the type of place that didn’t have any street lamps and creepy trees lined the road. At this time I was invulnerable to everything except werewolf bites and attacks from Vampires. This was also the time in my life that I was very heavily into Stephen King.

I walked up to the door and knocked. It was a kind of creepy farm type house. I have no doubt that I was about to be greeted by a grizzled old man with a shotgun who was asking what my intentions may be with his daughters. He arrived but without the shotgun and the hideous daughters. But he tipped pretty good and was a nice guy.

I jumped back into the Blue Cow and headed for home where I was currently working on the King book “It”. This book had proceeded to scare the living hell out of me. As it was summer I could stay up until 4 am reading it, although I had to have a dog near me and a kitchen knife just incase any creepy clowns decided to come out of my toilet and convince me to look into the deadlights.

I was on the rural road when I felt something on my neck. An itch maybe? It would start then stop. I made a swat but that didn’t do anything. Pretty soon I felt something down my shirt, next to my pants line. Then I felt a lot of them. Whatever the hell it was was making it way south pretty fast. It was all over my neck and also down my pants. I could feel the panic start to sink in as the only thing I could think of was Brain Leaches.

I slapped again on my neck and heard a crunch and felt juice on my neck and my hand. I looked at my hand in the dim light from the dashboard. It was the biggest, nastiest June bug I had ever seen.

And then I freaked out.

I slammed on my breaks and immediately jumped out of my car. A normal person my just swat and waive for a minute. I was in a different state of mind.

I tore off my shirt like Hulk Hogan and it was Hulkamania, can you smell what I’m cooking. I was screaming like my favorite toy just got run over by the neighbors. The undershirt went off, my pizza hat went flying.

Dear God I remembered they were making their way to my pants. My sweet jewels, god help me no. This can’t be happening, in the middle of nowhere, no street lamps where the only people around are stupid pizza delivery boys and guys with hooks for hands looking for lovers to murder.

In the front of the Blue Cow’s one working headlight, I stripped completely.

I took off every thing. The pants, the shoes, my shirt, my socks until the only thing I am wearing is a pair of very old tighty whities. I’m dancing around, cussing and screaming, swatting at invisible fingers that are no longer there. But they were still in my mind, good god get these things off of me.

The only guess that I have when these Demon Nazi Spawn got to me was when I was on the front porch of Mr. Grizzled old guy. He must be some sort of warlock and he has damned me. I should have spit on his pizza. His wrath was great and terrible and has left me in my skivvies looking like some kidnapped victim.

When I come to my senses I just sit down in the middle of the road for a moment, all of my glory hanging out. My clothes are strewn everywhere. I have no doubt that for those 2 minutes I had gone completely insane. If someone would have driven by I would have not blamed them for having me committed.

The Blue Cow decided at that point to stop running and clunked to noisy rundown of the engine. I was now in the dark with the memory of 100 June Bugs crawling all over me.

I gathered my clothes and put my pants back on after giving them a very efficient Dear God Shaking. The shirt, I just left that by the side of the road as I pushed my car in order to get up enough speed to do a jump start.

Ever since then, I have detested any and all June Bugs. I kill them whenever I see them. I will go out of my way to kill them. I will go to neighbors houses to kill them. I have taught my dog to eat them. Every time I hear him crunching on one I go get him a dog treat.

The Blue Cow, which served me so well, eventually was retired by being hit by a garbage truck while sitting at my house. They gave me 1000 bucks for it and as it didn’t work anymore, I was more than happy.
And the June Bugs from that night, they still haunt me. I am the father of a murdered shirt, husband of lost pants and I will have my vengeance. In either this life or the next

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