The Bush That Broke My Bag – Part 1

The title of this blog is somewhat suggestive if you have an incredibly filthy mind.  If you are on of those people, I salute you because we seemingly have a lot in common.  That is not to say we a lot as in many things in common as much as we have a large amount of immaturity in common.  We both possess an incredible level of the inability to be an adult in most situations.  Thank you for existing as it is so true that childishness loves company.  It should be painfully obvious to those that have been here before and read these ramblings that the general rules of writing do not apply here for many reasons:  I am not all that concerned about them and I am too lazy to go back and proofread most of this.  Very well.

Once upon a time I was walking home from school.  I was old enough to know that my dick worked, but young enough to not really know how to work it or how it worked.  I would venture a guess that I was around 12 years old.  I had reached the age when the Peacemaker monniker I had assigned myself was dead.  At least it was dead in name, only to rise again years later and cripple me from living.  But, we have mostly covered that previously.

I had just dropped off my friend, Erin Foley, at her house after school.  I was walking down the street and there were no sidewalks on this particular street, so I was street-walking.  As I was walking, something struck me as odd.  More so that struck me as odd, it was as if a lightening bolt shot down from the heavens and alerted me to the bush to my right.  I did not stop, I was stopped.  There is a big difference.

I am not here to say that what happened next was akin to Moses being told to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, but it was close.  This was not the burning bush, but as it turns out this bush was indeed very hot.  Very hot.  The time is somewhat important to the story, as you could already figure out by context clues it was sometime after 3 pm on a weekday.  There was little to no traffic on this suburban neighborhood road and I was alone, staring, frozen, and transfixed by this hot bush.  I did not realize why at first, but then it was so clear.  The contents of this hot bush became very clear to me, as if they were calling out to me.

I stepped closer and reached into the bush and pulled out roughly fifteen or more Playboy magazines.  It was like I found the fountain of youth as an old man.  The Holy Grail for pre-teen and teenage boys was a killer stash of porn and I had just unearthed it.  This moment changed so many things in my life.  I do not think I can over-stress just how important this moment had instantly become in my brain at the time.  I had just received a phone call from my agent telling me that I was going to be the number one draft pick and my financial future would be forever secure.  I was going to be inducted into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame.  I was going to be loved.  Many people will not know the names of some of these beautiful women, but to the best of my knowledge the year would have been 1986 or 1987.  These Playmates include some of these women:  Luan Lee, Julie Peterson, Marina Baker, Anna Clark, and more.  These women were more than enough for a young boy to sink his teeth into as a first glimpse of what a naked woman could be.  And never forget 1987 every young man’s dream came true when Vanna White graced the cover of Playboy and we all got a glimpse of what we had been imagining for years.

Up to this point in my career as a person, it had been rocky at best.  A few pivotal moments had allowed my small steps forward or up the social ladder of acceptance.  But, shaking off the over-zealous and god-sent messenger label proves to be a bit more difficult than a Mad Dog hangover.  I was searching for something major, something big that would forever seal my fate as “one of the guys.”  This score of porn was just what the doctor ordered.

My selfishness was not so overt at first.  I did not have time immediately to concoct specifics of my plan to become popular and accepted.  I had a more daunting task at hand, getting all of these magazines home.  I have heard stories of people being in crucial situations and then something clicks in their mind and their instincts take over.  This is what happened to me at this time.  I immediately opened my book and dumped all of my school books into the street.  Without hesitation, I then quickly and forcibly crammed every magazine safely inside.  My book bag could not have been more full.  Never had it experiences such fullness, in actual contents or in content.  As I somehow managed to fit the last of the magazines inside, I zipped it back up with purpose and determination.  The zipper broke.

I tossed the zipper head into the street, alongside my text and notebooks.  Without a second glance, I made my way for home as quickly and nonchalantly as a young boy can when he knows his life’s winning lottery ticket is over his shoulder, waiting to be cashed.  I felt like Santa must feel when he is making out on his first steps from the sleigh.

I was a latch-key kid, so when I got home I was free to examine my score without intrusion.  I had an older brother, by a bit more than a year, so I would have to be careful…very careful.  Here is the where the initial level and deepness of my selfishness and delusion began to cement itself in my brain.  As these magazines of the forbidden treasures of women lay before me, I imagined in my wildest thoughts of how well-versed and comfortable I would soon be concerning a woman’s body.  I would know everything there was to know about a woman and no one could argue against me.  I would have this knowledge and I would be a mystic to the other boys as they tried to imagine how I knew what I knew.  Secrecy would build my legend.  Secrecy would forever secure my place in the greatness of the halls of middle school boys.

Not only would I know everything, but this reputation would make me the most desired of all the boys.  The other boys would befriend in hopes of gleaming a bit of my knowledge and the girls would love me in hopes of experiencing what frightened and intrigued them.  Nothing can ease nerves as well as surety.  While I was the coronation in my head as king of the boys soon to be men, an uneasiness lurked in the back of my mind.  I tried to shun it, tried to silence it, but soon it became too loud and I knew it would be all too true.  But, at least for a few moments I had my hands on what I thought was going to be a crash course in being a man, a real man.  It would be my crash course for becoming a man who could love a woman the right way and it would also be my ticket to achieve my ultimate goal of being loved and revered by all those around me.  This find was nothing short of everything I ever needed in life.

As I began to pour over the pages and more importantly pictures, I realized just how lucky I had been.  There had to be a catch and that catch was headed full speed in my direction.  What about my text books I had left behind?  Surely, a stash of this proportion would be missed and sought after.  Panic began to set in until I realized that no matter what the cost, the potential rewards of this transgression far outweighed any punishment.

To be continued….

One thought on “The Bush That Broke My Bag – Part 1

  1. Just came across this Ryan. One of my favorite childhood memories. You were definitely the King of the Universe on that day.

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