The Severed Cortex

My mother would not approve of this story, but it's one of my favorites nonetheless. This would have happened circa spring of 1985 and while the general tone and substance of the story is correct, there may be some minor discrepancies in the details.

Spring Semester is almost over and by this time it’s been almost 4 months since I last showed up in class. Having no job and subsisting only on wonder bread and B-Quik Potato Logs for a week (2 for 99 cents), I managed to scrounge up enough money for a small sack of herbal remedy and a 12-pack of delicious Busch Bavarian beer. (side note: sold as a 2nd rate beer in Mississippi and a bargain at $4.00). Music Makers, the local university music promotion company is putting on their annual free concert at Five Points across from the Greek houses. This year the lineup consists of Weird Al Yankovic, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Jason and the Scorchers, and a couple of other minor regional rock deities. My roommates Tim, Jackie, David, and Beau along with our friends Marty and Mark and my girlfriend Tanya all pile in two vehicles to enjoy the festivities; a short 10 minute ride away. We arrive safely and soon after settling in either the back of Tim’s Silverado or on the ground, the Sneak-A-Toke makes its appearance. Joan Jett rocks. Weird Al plays Whole Lotta Love on the accordion. Jason and the Scorchers … well … let’s just say the Sneak-A-Toke ran out of petrol and we became bored with young Jason and his lovely Scorchers. We decided to ride back to the house for new festivities. Who knows, maybe Jethrine our next door neighbor is on an E trip again and will tell us a story about her large breasts again. I ride home in the back of Tim’s truck with David. As we make the turn into our apartment complex I notice that in between two cars a woman is squatting down. As I look closer in the barely illuminated parking lot I realize that she is in fact taking a whiz; Shaking the dew off her proverbial lilies; taking the lizard out for a … wait a minute, that’s a different story involving a hermaphrodite. Anyway. I alert David to tinkling Tina and I start to go tell Tim. Beau is pulling in behind us and as he’s parking, I mention to him there is a chick peeing in our parking lot. (I should point out at this moment that Beau has vision similar to a teenage Ray Charles. He once almost ran into the back of a big yellow school bus on the way to a Heart and Autograph concert in Hattiesburg. Woo-hoo, turn up the radio you little Barracuda.) Beau asks me where the lovely young woman might be. I reach Tim who takes a look, laughs and points it out to the rest of the group. The group seems unimpressed; however Beau has still not located the urinating wench and is asking everyone else where she is. For some reason the rest of the group ignores him. After some initial shuffling around, everyone starts to file into the apartment with Beau bringing up the rear. I still hear Beau saying, ‘hey where’s the chick you were talking about?’ Beau, never locating the lady with the golden you-know, gives up and slowly makes his way in the door. Now furiously mad at us for not letting him in on the shenanigans, he is completely unaware that our heroine has started to follow him in immediately behind him. He steps 10 feet into the middle of the living room, clears his throat momentarily and shouts at the top of his lungs … ‘WHERE’S … THE BITCH … WHO’S PISSING!!!!’. We all turn around to look at him, now noticing the woman and almost in unison say, ‘She’s right behind you Beau’. He turned, promptly fell on the floor and started laughing maniacally. The bitch, on the other hand had different ideas. She was completely FUBAR on what I’m guessing had to be Vitamin A and walked right past us, into Tim’s bedroom, and shut the door. We were absolutely flabbergasted and the room was silent for approximately 10 seconds. At the end of the 10 seconds, David sprang into action. Seemingly in one fluid motion he kicked the door in, grabbed said bitch, came out carrying her by the nape of the neck, and threw her out the front door bouncer style. Beau and I then watched from the window. FUBAR Fanny was now trying to steal a bicycle leaned up against the apartment building across the lot. She’d pedal for 10 feet, fall off, and then try again. After the 21st try or so Beau and I decided that we should help her out. We went out to talk to her and she made no sense at all. She needed a ride home, but couldn’t express where that might possibly be. As we were trying to Matlock/Quincy/Columbo it out of here, 2 guys in a 79 Grand Prix drove in the lot completely lost. (Did I mention we lived in a complex outside of town on a country road). They needed directions to South Park (no, not the TV Show, that’s 15 years from now) which was on the other side of town. Apparently South Park is where the bitch lived because she recognized the name and started repeating it over and over. Then she started taking her clothes off for no apparent reason and the 2 guys in the Grand Prix quickly volunteered to make sure the damsel in distress made it home.