THE S CLUB
Chapter 12

“You are too old to be dressing up on Halloween,” declared Madge. “You are fourteen years old.”

“I know,” I said, “but, hell, I have the rest of my life not to dress up on Halloween.”

But I didn’t care what Madge thought anyway.

It wasn’t until I saw all the Jack O’Lanterns on the front stoops and all the little kids parading up the sidewalks in town wearing their glitter and rayon costumes that I realized Halloween provided the scenario that I had been searching for. Tonight I was going to find Boom; boozy, horny, existential and alone at home.

After school I went downtown and found exactly what I wanted. I was lucky because there were only two left. It had him smiling and the grid of teeth was showing through his grin. His forelocks swept over his forehead, foreshadowing a Beatle cut. I put on the mask and looked into a mirror. I moved my right arm up and down like he does when he make a speech and is making a point. “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” I said. Even with the mask, I didn’t sound much like him.

“Well what do you think?” I said turning to Madge. I was wearing the mask and my going-to-Mass suit.

“Stupid,” she said bluntly. “No one goes out as Kennedy any more. Everyone is sick of the “First Family” record and everything.” She paused. ”Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Just don’t go into town. I don’t want to be embarrassed like I was last year when you sang Christmas Carols.”

“I thought that was kind of funny.”

“Well it wasn’t. It was stupid. I mean who sings “It’s Starting to Look A Lot Like Christmas” on Halloween?”

“Well, to me it does, and it certainly does to a lot of retailers”

“Oh you impossible asshole,” said Madge. “Why can’t you go out as something normal for once?”

“Well, what’s normal for Halloween?” I asked.

Madge was going out as a pirate.

She shook her head. Weird. Weird. Weird. ”Well, for example, monsters, Indians, Ghosts, TV Shows, Movies, Godzillas, skeletons, vagrants. God! Edmund,” she said hitting her forehead. ”I don’t know what I did to deserve to get a brother like you.”

“My only hope, she said continuing her lament, ”is that I get sick to my stomach this year, so I don’t have to face the kids the next day after you have made an ass out of yourself.” She seemed to be saying that more God than to me.

“Any way,” she said looking directly at me. “There is going to be an extra special S Club tonight. Neil is going to bring some brews, his transistor radio and his flashlight. I may even do a show.” She then struck one of her supposed voluptuous poses.

“I hope you hand out air sickness bags before you strip,” I said.

“Trick or Treated,” I said trying to make the Halloween greeting sound as Bostonian as possible.

“Oh Edmund,” said Boom.

It was now or never. Here it was. She was happy to see me. Booze was on her breath. It was now or never. The little kids hand come and gone. There was a Special S Club tonight, we would be alone for hours.

Boom looked tired, but still beautiful. Her hair was a platinum tumble weed, but still beautiful. She was wearing her faithful and worn-through bathrobe. She puffed on her cigarette.

“What would like Mr. Kennedy a Mars Bar or a Kissy?”

“I’d like a…” I lowered my voice, ”a drink.” I gazed up at her full of double entendre.

“Oh sure,” she said nonchalantly. Great. I was getting a drink. “Come on in,” she said. Great. I was inside the house. Step One and Step Two were accomplished. Soon it would be bigger than both of us. My heart pounded.

She rustled into the kitchen. “Have you seen the kids?” she asked.

“No, but, they won’t be back for a long time.”

“Well, what do you want to drink? Orange juice, Squirt, Coke or milk?”

“No,” I said, “I want a drink...drink-drink.”

She didn’t get what I meant at all.

“I want an adult drink,” I said.

She looked at me like I was crazy because I was.

Come to think of it. I don’t even like beer.

“John Kennedy is forty seven, you are only fourteen,” she said. ”What’s the matter with you?”

I shrugged.

“Do you think I’d give liquor to a minor?” she said. She was mad. Her face was flushed and her lips were slits. ”Just what are you trying to pull? How crazy do you think I am?” she exploded. “I may have a flair for fashion. But I am a decent woman. Buddy Boy!” She looked then more like a Nazi than a seductress.

She handed me a Coke and I left.

I walked into the night. I really am an illusion of grandeur. I hoped Boom didn’t hate me. She probably thought I wanted to get drunk and didn’t realize I was making a pass. She just thought I was being stupid which is what I was.

As I thought about it some more, it was more than stupid. I just wanted to experiment with Boom Boom, the way Boy Scouts sometimes experiment with other Boy Scouts. I knew in my darkest of hearts that if I had a choice to be naked and do it between Boom Boom or Chuck Connors. I’d prefer Chuck Connors because of his ineffable masculinity. I loved his biceps, his lantern jaw and his rigor. Who was I kidding? Only myself.

I walked into the night. I let the night be the night. I let the night sooth me. I let the night drift me away. The darkness is an illusive blue-black mask. Trees, houses and hedges silhouetted in black against the deep cobalt blue evening. Crickets chortled by ponds and adults laughed on their front porch. The highway hummed and the median vibrated from the on-coming cars. The neon glow reflected off a bank of clouds over the town a few miles away.

I walked to the edge of the road and peered across the potato field. Neil’s flashlight was bright like a headlight. The “Monster Mash” was playing on the transistor. Madge’s pulsating shadow eclipsed on the cypresses.

Zombie-eyed I moved somnambulant to the fort.

I then tripped over a crouching figure.

“You dumb asshole,” spat Farley.

“Oh hi Farley,” I said.

“Watch where you’re going, shithead!” she said. Farley was dressed as a ballerina. “I can’t believe you. You step on my head and all you say is ‘Hi’.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Sorry, yourself,” she said dismissing me with a sigh. “Look at your sister,” Farley remarked with a certain degree of amazement.

Madge was wearing one of Boom’s wigs and an eye patch. Her panties circled over her head like a cowboy’s lasso. Chris jumped up and down. Chris went as Superman and Neil went as himself. Neil opened a pack of M&M’s and chased it down with a swig of beer.

“Let’s see some tits, let’s get a little ass,” guffawed Neil.

Madge shimmed in the Doris Day wig.

“Can you believe your sister?” commented Farley.

“Not really,” I said. “I think it’s retarded.”

“I think it’s disgusting,” said Farley. ”But I wouldn’t mind being part of it. I am sick of being left out of everything.”

“It’s better than being with them,” I sighed. “We are all alone no matter what.”

I have always contended that one is always alone no matter what. Even if you are with somebody. And in some cases especially when you are with many people. Like New York City. You are alone. I am alone and that is that. It is the nature of the human being. Since Farley was only eight, I didn’t bother to explain it to her. For that matter I could hardly explain it to myself; after all, it was just a feeling I had.

Madge turned and wiggled her white behind. Her ass shimmered.

“Wow,” howled Chris.

“Yeah,” burped Neil, “that’s what I like.”

For an instant, we forgot and Farley and I laughed.

It was a laugh that wanted to succumb to the glow of the field.

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