Wonder Boy, Edward Forty-Hands, and a Perfect Penis
By: Jason R.
So let?s start at the beginning, mainly because I really don?t know the ending as of yet. Plus, the beginning is way more interesting to write about. Though I guess I could start at the end and work my way backwards, then all the drama would be pointless and I?d seem like a winey bitch. And honestly, who likes winey little bitches?
Des, put your hand down. I wasn?t speaking to you as of yet. Now if your better half raises his hand, then that?s a different story all together.
Now would be the time for all you to say, STOP DIGRESSING. Then I would deny it and move on. Shall we, I know you have to be a bit curious on where I?m going with this post, wonder who with how many hands and a perfect penis, what?
Okay, it started last Friday night when I stopped in at Applebee?s for a beer after work. Applebee?s is not a place I would normally frequent but it?s one of the only bars still open in Redwood City after I leave my wonderful hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto. And I know they have Fosters Beer on tap. Fosters is a beer that I would gladly punch a baby, several babies in a row, just for the possibility of maybe getting one to drink from a toothless hag with saggy tits and acne. And they serve them in a 23 ounce glass. Heaven on earth, I think so.
So as I walk into Applebee?s I mentally check myself, how?s my hair, how?s my breath, how?s my ass look in these work pants, you know all the important questions.
I?d been working all day so I know I must smell of food, alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. I put some cologne on once in my car but not even my expensive designer cologne can truly hide the nasty smell I know I ooze from every pore. But that doesn?t stop me from sitting down next to one of the prettiest girls I?ve seen in?well?a long time.
I derive great pleasure from hitting on girls, I can?t truly explain it, but there it is. I flirt, buy them drinks, dance my ass off with them, and then once I know they?re interested, I smile and say, ?Sorry, I?m gay.? Reading that back, I?m kind of a dick. Where was I?
I sit down next to this chick, and look around the bar area of Applebee?s. At the moment, I don?t see the bartender, so I immediately strike up a conversation with the girl. After a few minutes, out of the corner of my eye, I see the bartender walking towards me. When he?s in front of me, I say without really looking, ?Can I have a Foster?s, tall please??
The answer caught my attention, well not the answer as much as the voice I heard that gave the very generic answer. Truthfully, I don?t know what he said, but I can still hear his voice.
I know for a fact that I could never find the words in my limited vocabulary to accurately describe the tone, the richness of his voice, or the way it was so infectious I couldn?t help but smile. So I won?t, why embarrass myself anyway?
He was slim, his build much like a swimmer?s tone body, pale skin that had hints of natural darkness, his hair was streaked with blonde highlights, shoulder length and pulled back into a loose ponytail. He had high cheekbones, classical features that spoke of Asian heritage with dark chocolate eyes that mirrored his every emotion plainly for the world to see. He was beautiful, and I don?t use that term lightly or frivolously.
Later on that night I would come to understand his rather bizarre attire which comprised of skin tight black linen pants, a plain black T-shirt that hugged his lithe form in all the right places. What?s so bizarre about that? To top off the ensemble and to make it bizarre, he wore a bright red belt and matching suspenders. And on the right side of his chest he wore a nametag that read in plain white letters, Wonder Boy.
I saw all this in a single glance because the moment our eyes met my heart started beating faster and for a long minute we stood there, gazing into one another?s eyes.
Finally I spoke, ?Are you really a wonder boy??
He laughed and replied immediately with a mischievous grin, ?That?s what they say.? He turns around to walk over to the beer tap system. But over his shoulder he calls out, ?If you?re lucky you might found out someday.?
After that I pretty much forgot about the hot chick sitting next to me. All my attention was focused on Wonder Boy. I ordered some food, had a few more beers, turned on the charm and tried anything I could think of to keep that seductive smile on his face.
Wonder Boy and I chatted as much as we could in between the constant interruption the other patrons caused. I mean, what a bunch of assholes. If I saw one of them hitting it off with a chick I wouldn?t interrupt them, they should?ve had the same courtesy. And seriously, the way they were talking to the hot chick next to me, the last thing they needed was another drink.
It seemed my time with Wonder Boy was destined to end all too soon, because a few minutes before twelve, he asked me if I wanted anything for last call. I?m not sure if he saw the disappointment on my face, or if he was as sad as I at the thought of the nights end, but once the rest of the patrons had left and the other employees were busy doing the closing jobs, he leans over and asks in a breathless voice, ?What are you doing later??
I shrug, trying my best to play it cool, and say, ?Going home to my empty apartment.? Just my way of letting Wonder Boy know I am single and that I also live alone.
What, like you don?t do that?
He smiles at my answer, and asks really fast, his words jumbled together in what I hoped was a mixture of excitement and desire, ?Do you want to go to a party with me??
I made sure my face remained neutral, though I was screaming the word yes inside. I asked, ?Where??
His face lights up with a smile, he replied in that voice that first caught my attention, my pulse quickened as he said, ?Here in Redwood City, a friend of mine is having a birthday party. She just turned twenty-one.?
I immediately say, ?Sure. But??
?What?? he asks, the smile slipping from his face.
I grab the front of my work shirt, and say, ?I?m not dressed for a party.?
?You look fine to me.?
I don?t know where it came from but I blushed, I guess hearing him say I looked fine did funny things to me. I shook off that feeling and said, ?Thanks, but I really stink from work. I need to change.?
He asked, ?Where do you live??
I told him, and the smile returned to his face. He exclaimed, ?I know where that is, that?s like right down the street. I have a few things to do here still, why don?t you go and change and I can meet you at your apartment building in like twenty minutes.?
That was the smartest thing I ever heard. I reach for my wallet and say, ?Brilliant.?
You might not believe me, but I really did say brilliant. And no I?m not British, it?s just sometimes when I get excited I tend to lapse into this horrible English accent. I can?t explain it, it just happens okay. Get off my ass.
I say, ?Brilliant.? And reach for my wallet. I add, ?Can I get the check??
Wonder Boy looks around, I guess to make sure his manager is no where to be found and says, ?Don?t worry about it.?
I ask, frowning, ?Are you sure??
He laughs, raspy and low, and winks at me. I smile and hand him a twenty, ?Here?s the tip then.?
He grabs my phone from the bar and dials a number, a few seconds later his phone starts ringing. ?When I?m out front of your building I?ll call you.?
Before I can stop myself, I say, ?You better.?
I leave the restaurant with a big smile on my face and lyrics from the song by Tenacious D called Wonder Boy ringing in my head.
?Wonder Boy, what is the secret to your power?
Wonder Boy won?t you take me far away from the mucky muck man?
Yeah, I know a bit cheesy but what can I say, it?s the truth.
Once I got home, I rushed into the elevator, unbuttoning my shirt and untying my shoes as the small box takes me to the third floor. Once inside my apartment, I quickly shed my clothes and jump in the shower. Not having much time, I hit all the important places quickly and wash my hair.
With my hair still dripping wet, I throw on a pair of boxers followed by black jeans and a tight green shirt that has a single word printed on the front in white letters, GEEK. I slipped on a pair of trainers and was in the middle of taming my hair when my phone rang.
I answered; somewhat breathlessly if you must know, and Wonder Boy?s euphoric voice once again filled my head.
He says, ?Are you ready??
I look in the mirror and shake my head, ?No yet. Almost.?
For a moment, there is silence, then he says, ?Why don?t you buzz me up??
Again, I?m amazed by the good ideas that seem to flow out of this boy; truly he might be a wonder after all. Jesus Christ, that sentence is beyond stupid, sorry.
So I hit the number 9 on my cell phone, which sends a signal to the front door that unlocks it, and say, ?312, once out of the elevator, take a right.?
?See you soon.?
Suddenly I panic, my bathroom floor is littered with my discarded clothing, dirty undies not withstanding, not a good first impression I would want to make. With my hands covered in product, I grab the clothes and rush into my bedroom closet and shove them inside the hamper. I was in such a great haste, I never bothered to separate the clothes, nor did I open the closet door all the way, so when I bent to put the clothes in the hamper, I smacked my head against the closet door.
I don?t think you got the full impact of this action, so I will repeat it. I smacked my head against the closet door. Oh and incidentally, my closet door is one of those sliding mirrored doors, which I like, it opens up my bedroom while at the same time gives me a panoramic view during sex. At least I admit it, mirrors rock.
Moving on, so when I say I smacked my head against the closet door, I hit the door so hard it actually broke the mirror. And it made me more than a bit dizzy so I fell down. I was there on the floor when I heard the doorbell ring.
So I jumped up, and headed down the stairs. But I was still groggy from the blow to the head and lost my balance and fell about half-way down hurting my left ankle in the process. After a few moments, the doorbell rings again.
?Shit.? I scream out. I don?t want Wonder Boy to think I gave him the wrong apartment number or that I?m standing him up. So I get up and hobble over to the door as fast as I can. Once I arrive at the door, I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. But my head still hurts and my ankle keeps switching back and forth between fire and ice. I open the door, with what I?m sure is a look of pain on my face.
Wonder Boy is standing there, that smile on his face, and again my heart starts to race. But as soon as Wonder Boy looks at me, his smile disappears and a look of concern settles on his face. Suddenly I feel something wet drip into my eye. I brush it away with the back of my hand and to my horror I see that its blood.
End Part One