Contest Deadline Today: Haiku Hullabaloo

Have you sent in your haiku? Today is the last day to do so. If you would like a chance at winning some fabulous prize, yet to be decided upon, send your original haiku to me at Home_Fires@comcast.net. Try your best to follow the haiku guidelines; five syllables in line one, followed by seven syllables in line two and then five more in the third line of text. There is no theme or any other rules, so have fun with it.

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Welcome to part six of the Story of Us. This ongoing saga is about mine and my husband's early years. You can read parts one through five below or you can just hop in now. I'm trying to make each part its own so if you have just landed here, you won't feel too terribly lost. Sorry in advance if some of the details are a repeat for you regular readers.

Rockin' out to the band in my leather fringe jacket, my acid-washed jeans and my big hair, I saw Mr. LaMe and his date arrive. I pretended not to see them and continued head banging away to the music.

They walked over to me and yelled "Hello" over the band. I smiled at those two dorks. When the music stopped, I took them around showing them where the kegs (kegs of root beer Mom) and bathrooms were, which are the two key things to know at a kegger party. I introduced them to the band and some of my other friends.

I have to admit to being slightly embarrassed to claim them as my guests. They really didn't fit in very well. Between his Valley Girl accent and her inability to communicate, combined with his George Jetson hairdo and her attempt at going for the goth look, they were certainly a sight for sore eyes. Her black eye makeup was thick and her face was as white as my ass. A sight I'm tellin' ya.

I asked his girlfriend if she wanted to go hit the beer bong (It's like a root beer float Mom) with me. She had no idea what that even meant, but hesitantly followed me anyhow. I left Mr. LaMe in the company of my friend Dan. He was a ladies' man and I figured the two of them could swap stories.

I had to show the girl how a beer bong was done. In a very Fast Times at Ridgemont High kind of a way, I explained, "Relax your throat muscles." Everyone around us knew what movie I was quoting but she was taking me heart-attack-seriously, and had no idea we were laughing at and not with her.

The poor girl nearly drowned. That amused me. I patted her back and handed her a paper towel. The buzz hit her immediately but she remained in her shy little shell. I brought her back to Mr. LaMe, who promptly asked "What did you do to her?"

I laughed at that stupid boy and walked away.

Within the hour, she was ready to leave and he felt the need to hunt me down to say goodbye.

"I totally hope she doesn't like barf in my car."

"Me too. Sorry. I didn't know she was a light weight."

"It's okay. I guess this was like her first time drinking and stuff. I just hope she doesn't turn totally weird in the car and like, ya know how some chicks cry when they are drunk? I'd be like dropping her off on a corner somewhere and stuff."

"You are such a sweet guy."

"After I ditch her, do you think Alan will let me come back?"

"His name is Andy, and that would be totally rude to ditch her, but I am sure Andy wouldn't mind if you came back."