WIP: DYNAMIC DUO OF THE OZARKS

CHAPTER 6

            The alarm went off and Mykel woke up to find Clint dressed for class.

            “You’re already up,” Mykel groaned from under the sheets and blanket his mother had sent with him.

            “This isn’t early for me,” Clint laughed. “I’ve been getting up at four in the morning to milk cows for most of my life. When I wake up at 6:30, I feel like I have overslept or something.” Clint sat on his bed, putting on a pair of Dan Post boots. “What time is your first class?”

            “Ten. Why?” Mykel answered.

            “Get dressed and we can go grab breakfast over at the dining hall,” Clint said. “After last night, you need a big breakfast.”

            “I’m also going to need something for a headache,” Mykel gripped. “I had too much of that rum those girls bought on clearance at Katz.”

            Clint reached into the drawer of his desk, pulled out a small bottle of Anacin and tossed it to Mykel. “Here, take one of these. Yeah, but we had some fun with those girls. They were nice and pretty.”

            “Except for that gal that stormed out mad,” Mykel laughed as he got out of bed. “She wasn’t either nice or pretty. That weird eye of hers gave me the creeps. What did Slick call her?” He got a towel and his shaving kit out of his suitcase.

            “The cockeyed bitch,” Clint laughed. “Slick can describe people in wildest ways, and they are usually right on the money. She kind of made me tired with how she talked about the boyfriend of the hot chick, that liked you, being from such an important family. As my grandpa would say, she makes you want to go way off to take a shit.”

            Mykel began laughing harder at Clint’s colloquialism. “I don’t know what that means, but I think I understand what you are talking about in relation to Alice.” He then walked up the corridor to the bathroom.

            “Now that you are up, I’ll turn on the radio to see what the temperature is outside,” Clint yelled at Mykel, but he was already in the bathroom and didn’t hear him. Clint switched it on, then got a tube of Groom N Clean, a comb and brush, while Frank Sinatra was comparing his life to fine wine in old kegs. He set a hand mirror up on the desk and began rubbing a gob of the goop into his blonde hair, before combing it into place.

            “THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L – AN OLD LADY, PROBABLY IN HER FIFTIES, CALLED AND ASKED IF I WOULD PLAY THE LATEST FROM ‘FRANKIE.’ I KNEW RIGHT THEN, SHE WAS AN OLD BOBBY SOXER! SINATRA AND ‘IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR.’ I’M LOVABLE LANCE POWERS AND I HOPE 1966 WILL BE A GOOD YEAR.” A beep came from the radio. “THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK OF SPRINGVILLE TIME AND TEMPERATURE TONE SAYS IT’S EIGHT-TWENTY-SEVEN AND TWENTY DEGREES ON A CLOUDY MON-DEE MORNING IN THE OZARKS!” The sound of a doorbell interrupted the dee-jay patter. “I BETTER SEE WHO IS AT THE DOOR.” It sounded like Lovable Lance walked to a door and opened it, followed by the wild chatter of a chimpanzee throwing a mad fit. “OH, IT’S THE K-I-DOUBLE-L BRASS MONKEY. HE WANTS TO COME IN AND WARM UP AND THE ROLLING STONES ARE WANTING ‘SATISFACTION’ ON THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

            Clint laughed at the goofy bit the DJ was doing. He reached under his bed, pulled out a Red Wing boot box that had a stash of his favorite snacks stored. He pulled out a small jar of Folgers Instant Coffee. He walked down the corridor to the sink over the mini fridge and filled a Pyrex carafe with water. He heated it on a small, hot plate on his desk. Once it boiled, he poured the water into a big mug that he had put two spoonsful of instant coffee in and waited for Mykel to get out of the shower. He looked out the large dorm window at people walking to class, swaddled in heavy coats. As he drank his coffee and watched the parade of shivering students, he quietly prayed that this semester would be better than the last and he would not flunk out, and be returning to the family farm, in the summer, a disappointment to his parents. That would also mean winding up being drafted and going to fight in Vietnam.

            Mykel came out of the bathroom, frantically rubbing his hair with a yellow towel, and sat down on the edge of his bed. “What is the temperature outside?”

            “The guy just said it is twenty degrees outside,” Clint answered. “Everyone walking outside is bundled up and acting like it is really cold out there.”

            Mykel got up and got a brown sweater, long sleeved shirt and pair of tan denim pants out of the tallboy, removed each article of clothing from their hangers, then flung them onto the bed. Once he had the clothing on, he got a bottle of Vitalis from his shaving kit and poured a bit, straight onto his wet head and rubbed it in, before brushing his hair in a tiny mirror.

            “You better look good,” Clint joked. “You may see that great looking blonde chick from last night. She was after you!”

            “Clint, let me explain something to you. Girls hate me. I’m not sure why. I kind of had a girlfriend in Binbury in seventh grade, but Missouri girls don’t dig me. I came close to getting beat up by a girl working in a grocery store yesterday before I came here. She hated me in school, and she still hates me.  That is typical of the response I get from girls,” Mykel explained.

            “Are you sure you didn’t do something that would be a violation of the Blue Law?”

            “All I got was three bottles of Pepsi,” Mykel said. “That is a necessity. Do you know what she got for Christmas? Tattoos!”

            The radio began to vibrate with the sound of a thundering timpani and pulsing synthesizer.    “FROM THE K-I-DOUBLE-L NEWS CENTER, I’M T. R. MCGILLICUDDY WITH NEWS HEADLINES AT EIGHT-THIRTY O’CLOCK ON MONDAY JANUARY 17TH, 1966. A MASSIVE BLIZZARD BLANKETS MOST OF THE EAST COAST AND ROCKIES!    MILITARY COUP IN NIGERIA! TULSA TEACHERS GO ON STRIKE! CASTRO CLAIMS HE DOESN’T KNOW WHERE CHE GUEVERE IS! U. S MILITARY PLANE CRASHES IN GREECE! MORE NEWS AFTER THIS COMMERCIAL FROM LEVY-WOLF WOMEN’S FASHIONS.”

            “I’m ready,” Mykel said, as he grabbed a notebook and pen. Clint turned off the radio and they left the dorm room to begin the chilly trek from Bonner Hall to the cafeteria in the student union building. Once they got inside the building, Mykel reached in his pocket for his Primetine Mist inhaler and took two puffs. Clint showed concern for Mykel, but he reassured him that cold air triggers his asthma, and the inhaler would calm his shortness of breath. Before they walked into the cafeteria, Dennis and Tommy came out.

            “Did you guys have fun last night?” Dennis asked Mykel and Clint while getting a pack of Camels from his shirt pocket and lit one up.

            “Yes, we did,” Clint answered.

            “Henry had too good of a time and he is sore at Slick about it,” Tommy laughed. “Slick’s in there trying to get him to eat a bunch of stuff and drink black coffee.”     

            “We are late for class too. Maybe we will see you guys later?” Dennis said.

            “Yeah, probably. We’re just down the hall,” Clint said. Dennis and Tommy opened the heavy, steel door to the frigged outdoors, and Mykel and Clint walked into the cafeteria, presented their meal tickets, which was punched by a rotund woman with a hairnet covering her gray-hair. They started toward the serving area, when Clint spotted Slick and Henry, seated at a table. Clint waved at them.

“We will be over there in a minute.” Slick waved back in acknowledgment.

            On an overhead speaker, the radio was tuned to K-I-L-L, and the newsman was talking about sports. “THE SHOW-ME STATE WOLVES LOST THE BASKETBALL GAME AGAINST SOUTHERN ILLINOIS SALUKIS SATURDAY NIGHT AT MCDONALD ARENA.”

            “Did that guy have to bring that up?” Clint grumbled to Mykel, who just smiled.

            Clint and Mykel walked on over and began getting some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Mykel added a grapefruit to his selections. They walked over to where the beverages were, they saw a confused Owen, with a tray holding just a cereal bowl, a doughnut and a can of orange juice, staring at the coffee dispenser.

            “Hey Owen, you look like you need help,” Mykel inquired.

            “A cafeteria lady said that this machine has hot water to put on my Maypo, but I can’t figure out where it comes out.”

            “I’ll show you,” Mykel volunteered. “Where is your package?” Owen handed him the paper package and Mykel tore it open, dumped it in Owen’s bowl, held it under the spigot and operated the tap. “It’s the red tap. If you use the green one, you’ll have coffee on your cereal.” He then handed it to Owen, while mimicking the kid in the commercial. “I wannntt mmyyy MAY-PO!,” which made Owen laugh. “Come set over here with me and the guys from our floor.”

            Owen followed Mykel and Clint over to the table, as if he was being allowed to march in ticker-tape parade for a national hero, as the overhead speaker blasted a K-I-L-L jingle followed by “Voodoo Woman” by Bobby Goldsboro.

            “Well, are we ready for another semester?” Clint asked while putting his tray down. Mykel let his drop to the table, causing his flatware to clank against the metal tray. Henry jumped and gave him an annoyed glare.

            “Careful!” Henry squealed. Slick began laughing.

            “Henry’s figuring out what a hangover is like,” Slick laughed. “Hang in there, man. Drink more coffee and eat what I told you to get there, you’ll be fine by lunch time.”

            “He put three strips of bacon and two sausage patties on my plate and got me a can of tomato juice. I don’t like tomato juice,” Henry complained to the others. “I usually don’t eat this much. Besides, he was the one slipping all the rum into drink. I was just going to try about one drink.”

            “I think I snuck the equivalent of six or seven shots into your drinks,” Slick chuckled. “But you were having fun and we had fun watching you get crazy. I think those girls liked you, Henry. And that sweet-looking, blonde babe would have eaten Mykel alive if we weren’t there.”

            “Guys, don’t get my hopes up,” Mykel shook his head in denial. “Girls never like me. Especially one that pretty.”

            “I told him that she was after him, but he won’t believe a word of it,” Clint said. “Did you see how quick she was to suggest he sit next to her on that little couch?”

            “I liked when she laid her leg across his lap to show the other girls her toe ring,” Slick laughed. “You look like someone dropped at water moccasin in your lap. What was wrong, man?”

            Mykel lowered his voice. “If you must know, I was getting a boner and afraid she would feel it.” This revelation caused the other guys, including Henry, to laugh at Mykel’s confession.

            “OH! Laughing is hurting my head,” Henry whined, then went back to giggling.

            Slick clapped his hands and laughed loud enough that some of the other students in the cafeteria began staring at him. “Let’s take a quick vote like last night,” he said to the guys, holding his hand up. “How many believe the cute blonde liked Mykel?” Clint and Henry raised their hands, Owen did as well, only he had a half-eaten doughnut in his hand. “See, Mykel, we were a witness to this. She wants you! Now, let’s vote again. How many hoped that cock-eyed friend of hers got hit by a bus after she went stomping out of the party?’

            The guys burst into laughter again as they held their hands up, in response to Slick’s second question. “You didn’t like that girl, did you Slick?” Clint asked.

            “Oh, Hell no!” Slick got serious. “She was hateful with everyone, then began gushing about that girl’s ex-boyfriend,” Slick then imitated Alice with a nasal, comic, voice “’He put the knob in Knob Noster.’ I’m sorry, little, ugly, white girl, it was the United States Air Force made Knob Noster, not some rich boy, that got dumped by that hot babe that likes Mykel.”

            “She looks like the Old Witch from the Haunt of Fear comic books,” Owen observed, before guzzling the rest of his carton of chocolate milk. “Same eye too.” The guys laughed at that statement.

            Clint realized they were getting dirty looks from other students in the cafeteria. On the overhead radio, Lovable Lance Powers was announcing that K-I-L-L had a request for “Tomorrow Is Gonna Be Another Day” by the Sons of Adam, so he changed the subject. “Did you hear they mentioned our loss on the radio, a few minutes ago?”

            “Yeah, but you know what Coach Thomas will say this afternoon?” Slick said, before imitating. “This is a learning experience…” Clint then joined him and recited the coach’s usual speech in unison. “That will prepare us for our next game.”

            “Hopefully, I’ll be able to help you guys out,” Clint said. “I’ve had so many problems grade wise and having to set out games.”

            “I think you will do fine,” Slick encouraged Clint. “Maybe having a smart roommate will help.”

            Mykel overheard the conversation and added, “Then Clint is in big trouble.”

   

            The guys finished their breakfast and dispersed to the respective classes. Mykel went to an American Literature class, where he saw Kathy and Grace from Room 420. Grace knocked over the one of the small desks, but she placed it in the upright position and made it her own. Kathy chose a seat next to her.

            “Mykel, come sit over here with us!” Kathy commanded while removing her coat and placing it on the back of the chair. Mykel obliged and sat down at one of the desks. “We had fun last night, didn’t we?”

            “Yeah, it was really nice of you girls to invite us guys to hang out with you,” Mykel answered. “I was never invited to any parties in Lemming, so I was surprised that you wanted me there.”

            “We did this at the beginning of school, last semester, when we were in the other dorm, and we made several friends, but we only had girls in that dorm, so it was great to get to have a party with boys this semester,” Kathy explained. “Also, glad we got to include Carlene and Silvy too. Scary to think there was a fire at their dorm. Our dorm just had leaky pipes.”       

                  Grace piped up with the ongoing after party rumor. “I know one person who was glad you came to the party!”   

            “Who?” Mykel asked.

            “Sherry Ridenhour!” Grace and Kathy said, at the same time, before giggling.

            “Really?” Mykel was now willing to listen to this talk. Clint and the guy’s version didn’t seem reliable, but hearing this, from her roommates, there might be some level of truth to this information.

                “She talked about you after you left, she talked about you before we went to bed and was talking about you again this morning,” Kathy said. “You really left an impression on her.”

            “You gotta be kidding!” Mykel was getting excited listening to this, in much the same way, he had been excited when Sherry decided to put her leg on his lap, to show off her toe ring, at the party. “She is really pretty and friendly, but I’m beginning to wonder if she is crazy…if she likes me.”

            “The only odd thing about her is she is what they call ‘nasty neat.’ I guess being the daughter of a doctor, she worries about germs and stuff. She washes her hands after everything she does, even carries a little bottle of witch hazel, mixed with peroxide, in her purse! She thinks rubbing that stuff on her hands kills germs, or something.” Kathy explained while giggling. “She doesn’t like to get anything on her hands, so she uses Playtex Living Gloves for everything, even opening those potato chip bags last night.”

             Grace added, “She also sprays Lysol on stuff. Other than that, she is super nice and quite funny. You two would be a perfect match. You really had her laughing all night.”

            Mykel was smiling, “You think so! I know her friend didn’t like me.”

            Kathy scowled, “Don’t pay any attention to Alice! She hates everyone, except Sherry’s former boyfriend, Chip!”

            “Alice is a pain in the butt!” Grace gave her opinion of Sherry’s fellow Knob Noster classmate.

             “You know what would be fun,” Kathy exclaimed with inspiration. “Tonight, about 7 or so, let’s all go to the Cafe What, in the Student Union! Do you think Clint and the other boys would come with us? We will try to get Carlene and Silvy too.”

            Grace grinned with excitement, “That would be fun! As cold as it is, we could just drink coffee and listen to music together!”

            “Sure, I’ll ask Clint,” Mykel said. “I know he and Slick have basketball practice this afternoon.”

            A young lady, with horn-rimmed glasses and her hair in a top knot, walked into the classroom with a stack of papers. “Dr. Gladys Wisencoff went to a writer’s conference in New York and is stranded there because of the blizzard, but she wanted you to have the curriculum. She hopes she can be here Wednesday for class. The main thing you will need for class on Wednesday is to go ahead and buy a copy of Sherwood Anderson’s novel, Winesburg, Ohio, at the campus bookstore, and begin reading it. Also, write your name on the notepad, I am passing around, to show that you attended class. When you have signed it and picked up a curriculum, you are free to leave. Thank you!”

            “Well, so much for that!” Mykel said. “I guess I could hang out in the Student Union until time for my American History class.”

            “Sherry has an American History class,” Kathy said. “Maybe it is the same one.”

            Mykel walked over to the Student Union, to see if the snack bar was open yet. It was, so he climbed up on a stool at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee in an attempt to warm up after walking, from the English Department to the Student Union, in the cold. There was a large radio receiver with speakers, set up at the snack bar, tuned to K-I-L-L, and blasting Ronny and the Daytonas, singing about their little G.T.O.

            “That will be ten cents,” the guy behind the counter said, as he handed Mykel the white ceramic coffee mug, in exchange for Mykel’s dime. “You get two refills.”

            “That is probably all I’ll drink. I don’t really like coffee,” he told the guy. “You look familiar, did we have a class together last semester?”

            “No, but I’m from Lemming. My name is Jamie. My mom works with your mom at Bell Telephone.”

            “Okay, that must be it.”

            “I’m getting ready to graduate in December with a degree in sociology,” Jamie said. “Then I’m going to take grad courses at Central Missouri State College at Warrensburg.”

            “So, you aren’t going back to Lemming after you graduate,” Mykel asked.

            “Are you kidding?” Jamie said. “There is no opportunity there.”   

            “Once I get a degree, I won’t go back there either. I moved there in the seventh grade, when my father died, and I have hated every minute.”       

            “Your grandfather retired from the Fort, didn’t he?”

            “Yeah, that is why we moved there so me and Mom could live with them,” Mykel pondered. “You know my grandparents have lived in Lemming forever and Mom grew up there, but I just feel like we are outsiders, in some way.”

            “There is animosity toward the Fort Leonard Wood folks from some of the big wigs in Lemming,” Jamie explained. “Most people like your family, but the important ones would keep you down, even if you have a degree, because he was a major at the Fort. It’s silly the way they think.”

            “You know some girls invited me and my roommate to a party last night and everyone is telling me that one of those girls likes me. None of the girls in Lemming liked me. Matter of fact, I stopped in that grocery store on Second Street yesterday, before I came up here, and the girl working there got mad at me and just about hit me. I was in love with a girl in school, but every time I would try to talk to her, the jocks and the redneck guys would threaten to beat me up for talking to her.”

            “Who was it?”

            “Bethany Duckworth.”

            “You’ve got good taste,” Jamie said. “She’s getting married to a guy, who was in my graduating class, Timmy Brinkwell. His father runs the funeral home.”

            “Oh yeah. What is he like?”

            “Kind of like Lunch from the Addams Family,” Jamie said. Every week when we watch that show, I tell my fiancée ‘He reminds me of a guy I went to school with named Timmy Brinkwell.’ I’m sure someone fixed them up. It’s another case of the old money people of Lemming trying to breed their kids. She is going to find out what other girls who dated Timmy find out. He is nice, but creepy. He wants to put their makeup on for them and he cakes it on them. I know a girl who wanted to make-out and heavy pet with him, but he said he would enjoy it more if she was cold and clammy. That girl dumped him right after that. Bethany would definitely be better off with you.” Jamie refilled Mykel’s coffee cup, as the radio station played a jingle, that claimed K-I-L-L was ‘the rocket powered go-go sound,’ followed by “Um, Um, Um, Um, Um” by Major Lance.

            “Thanks, I guess. Too bad she doesn’t understand that” Mykel bemoaned. “The girl I met last night is from Knob Noster and just broke up with some guy, whose family ‘put the knob in Knob Noster’; supposedly, according to her friend.”

            “Maybe she realized he wasn’t all that great,” Jamie reassured Mykel. “And she showed interest in you, and she is from a town that is probably crawling with test pilots, and chicks dig test pilots. I understand your situation, I only went on a few dates with girls in Lemming and I came here to Show Me State and met my fiancée, when I was a sophomore. She is from St. Louis. Here at college, the stupid social boundaries of your high school and hometown are gone. You can be friends and date whoever you want.”

             “I’m still not sure I’m ready to believe there is a girl who wants to be with me,” Mykel drank the rest of his coffee and put a quarter in the tip jar for Jamie. “I’ve got an American History class in a few minutes.”

            “Do you know who the professor is?” Jamie asked.

            “J. D. Plowright, I believe.”

            “Man, I should have filled your cup with espresso, so you can stay awake,” Jamie laughed. “He knows his stuff and the exams are easy, but he talks like LBJ, only at Everette Dirksen’s speed. Good luck, man!”

                    Mykel walked out into the cold rain, toward the building, where his American History class was being held. It was not in the history department, for some unknown reason, but a building used by the agriculture sciences department, which smelled like the fertilizer and animal feed they sold at M-F-A Farmers Exchange in Lemming. The class was in a lecture hall with stark white walls and orange, plastic chairs with desks attached.

            Mykel was looking over the crowd of students, milling about, to find an empty seat, when a voice split the air, “MMMYYYYY-KEEELLL! MYKEL! OVER HERE!” causing people to jump and search for the girl who screamed. Before he could wonder if someone was yelling at him, he noticed it was Sherry, the girl from the party in Room 420. She was smiling and waving for him to come sit beside her. Her sandy, blonde, bouffant flip bounced as she swung her arm back and forth over her head for him to see. The other students were starting to stare at him, as he made his way down the steps toward the row of seats, where she was saving a special place for him to sit next to her.

            “I’m so glad to see you here! Sit next to me!” she gushed with joy. Her beaming smile and sparkling lapis eyes gave Mykel a feeling he had not experienced. He felt warm from the inside out and his face seemed to tingle. He pulled off his coat and sat down at the desk next to her. “Did you have fun last night?”

            “Yes, I did! I’m so glad you girls invited me and Clint,” Mykel answered. “We both had fun. Kathy had a great idea about getting to know other people in the dorm.”

            “I’m sorry about Alice’s behavior. Even going back to birthday parties in elementary school, she would throw a mad fit and had to be taken home.”

            “I’m sure if there was a clown at the party, she would really throw a tizzy,” Mykel observed, causing Sherry to laugh. “She didn’t want you to bring that up.”

            “If she is going to bring up my love life, I’m going to bring up the fact that she is afraid of clowns,” Sherry said. “But it does make sense, if you think about it. Clowns make people laugh and Alice doesn’t have a sense of humor.” Sherry then lifted her leg and extended it, straight out, much like she had the previous night, although she didn’t drape it across Mykel’s lap this time. She was wearing a pair of black tights, beneath a brown, tweed, knee-length pencil skirt, but the article of clothing she wanted Mykel to see was a pair of short, white, vinyl boots that stopped just above her ankle. “Look! Do you like my boots? They’re like what the girls on Hullabaloo wear!”

            “Those are swell!” Mykel gazed, not just at the little boot, but at what it was attached to as well. He was getting to be quite familiar with Sherry’s leg, which was fine with him since most of the girls in Lemming only showed Mykel their fist.

            A stocky man, in his sixties, walked to a podium at the front of the room and turned on a microphone attached to a pulpit. Next to the pulpit was an overhead projector, which he turned on, after dimming the lights at the front of the room. He then began tapping on the microphone and asked, “Is this working?” After the class acknowledged that it was working, he introduced himself.

            “Good after-noon! I’m Professor Plowright and this is American History One-Oh-Two…which covers…the Reconstruction of the South…until…the end of World War Two. I hope…that I can make…the history…of our nation…come alive…both good and bad. You frequently hear people…talk about the Good Ole Days. The truth is…there have never been…Good Ole Days. There have always been problems. The people…who call them…the Good Ole Days…never lived in those times…or they are lying about how good it was. I also believe…that if…the great people of history…could come to our modern times…they would probably be pleased…and amazed…with what they saw. We are not…guaranteed…what tomorrow…will be like…or if we will even be living tomorrow. Things change…good and bad…but we must…accept change…because that…is how…our universe functions.”

            Mykel was quickly realizing what Jamie, the boy at the snack bar, was talking about, but he also saw that Professor Plowright had an idea about what he sounded like. “Something I want to clear up before I take the roll…I was born in Ghouly Bust, Texas. It is hard to find on a map. It is that small. People ask me…if I’m related…to the President…of the United States. The answer is no. I have the utmost respect for the President…but we are not related…we just talk alike. I do have a famous relative…that you young folks would be familiar with…and I will tell you who that is…later.”

            He then began reading names and having people answer “Here!” when their name was called out. After a few names, he came to a Michael Anderson. When the boy answered, he then asked, “Are YOU…the Michael…that some young lady was so excited to see earlier?” The boy replied with a no. Mykel and Sherry both looked at each other rather chagrined. He read some more names, until he came to a Michael Comstock. The same question and the boy gave the same answer. Sherry looked nervously at Mykel, dreading what was coming.

            “Is this pronounced Me-kell Daring?” Professor Plowright asked.

            “It is pronounced Michael.”

            “Are you…the Michael…some young lady…was so happy to see?”

            “Yes!” The class began laughing.

            “You have a Yankee accent. Connecticut?”

            “Vermont.”

            “I knew it wasn’t a Missouri accent. I feel your pain. I’m sure they ask you…if you are related…to the late President Kennedy.”

            “They haven’t asked if I’m related, but they often say I sound like him.”

            He went on with the roll, which went rather slowly with the number of students and the pace at which Professor Plowright spoke. “Sherry Ridenhour?”

            “Here!” Sherry answered.

            The professor looked up and noticed she was sitting next to Mykel. “I recognize that voice…you are the screamer.” Sherry turned red and slunk down in her seat, as the class began laughing again. The professor finished the role and then talked some more about what was on the syllabus, which an assistant passed out mimeographed copies of, and the textbook. He held a copy up over his head, to show the class what it looked like. “Save yourself some money…and buy…a used copy of this book. The campus bookstore should have some…used ones for about two dollars.” Professor Plowright then dismissed the class until Wednesday. The students got up and began filing out of the lecture hall.   

             “Do you have another class today?” Sherry asked, giving Mykel a soft, sweet smile, as she put on her coat.

            “I have a class in Broadcast Writing next, why?”

            “Maybe later you could come to the dorm suite, and we could eat some of the leftover pizza from last night.”

            “That sounds great! I should be back at my dorm room by one o’clock.”

            “I’ll call the room and see if you are there,” Sherry said. “And Kathy is wanting to see if we would want to go to the Cafe What, in the Student Union, tonight. Would you want to do that?”

            “Yeah, I said I would be interested. We have an American Literature class together.”

            “Great! I will see you later then.” She walked out of the room, still smiling. Mykel stood amazed at what had just taken place. A pretty girl told him that she wanted him to come to her room. Even if the pizza was cold, it was, at least, a start.

CHAPTER 5

Mykel and Clint got dressed up to go downstairs to the party in the girl’s suit. As they changed their clothes, they got acquainted by telling each other about their hometowns.

“There isn’t very much in Hermes. We have a a bank, a grocery store, a hardware and feed store, a drug store and a truck stop on the edge of town,” Clint explained, as he polished his brown, patent leather shoes.

“What do the kids in your town do for fun?”

“There is a soda fountain at the drug store and there is a drive-in restaurant everyone goes to called the Cream-N-Go. It’s closed in the winter.”

“What did you say it was called?” Mykel began to laugh.

“Cream-N-Go,” Clint repeated, while chuckling himself. “Out-of-towners always laugh about it too.”

“So, exactly how man state titles did Hermes win?” Mykel asked his new roommate, as he splashed Aqua Velva on his face.

“Two in football, while I was in school,” Clint explained, as he dragged a comb soaked in Groom-N-Clean through his blonde hair. “I believe we won the football state championship four other years…maybe in the 50s. Coach Smuckers is one of the best coaches in Missouri. I know Lemming Pond is pretty good in basketball and baseball. How are they in football?”

“Lousy,” Mykel answered with a chuckle. “We don’t even score points during a football game. Last year, during a game we actually scored and KOTX’s sportscaster broke in during Peyton Place and announced we had scored for the first time in five years. Some of the football players’ parents were mad about that, but I thought it was funny. The town I used to live in, Binbury, had a great football team. Unfortunately, I had to leave there, when my father died and moved to Lemming Pond, because that is where my mother’s family lived.”

“Binbury is in Vermont, right?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“The box your TV set was in has an address from Binbury, Vermont,” Clint then smiled and then added, “That also explains your accent.”

The boys checked to see if their pants were zipped, in the full length mirror, mounted on the back of the front door, then they locked it on the way out to the party.

“What was that thing you put in your pocket with the keys?” Clint asked Mykel.

“My Primetine Mist Inhaler. I have asthma and might need it.”

“Too bad this isn’t off-campus, so I could drive,” Clint said. “Chicks dig my car.”

“What kind of car is it?”

“A 64 Ford Mustang. It’s forest green though.”

“Yeah, but is still a Mustang,” Mykel answered, as they ran down the stairs to the forth floor and Room 420. Slick walked up from the stairwell, at the opposite end of the hall, with a skinny, baby faced, blonde boy in a blue cardigan.

“Hey, you guys made it too,” Slick exclaimed. “Clint, Mykel, this is my roommate, Henry, uh…” Slick drew a blank.

“Henry Sawyer,” Clinton spoke up. “I remember you from last semester. I’m surprised they didn’t just move one of us down the hall and have us room together. Don’t worry, Slick’s a great guy. He’s a lot of fun, but he’s also stable.”

“My roommate, last semester, left in the middle of the night,” Henry told Mykel. “I thought he wanted an early start for Columbus Day weekend, but he never came back.”

The door to Room 420 was standing ajar and a radio inside was blasting “The Cheater” by Bob Kuban and the In-Men.

“I guess we can go on in,” Clint surmised. He then knocked on the door, out of courtesy, while Henry and Mykel got acquainted with each other.

“I’m from Sullivan. Where are you from?”

“Lemming Pond, but don’t hold that against me.” Mykel’s answer caused Henry to laugh.

“What’s the password?” screamed one of the girl’s from inside the dorm suite.

“Swordfish!” Slick yelled back.

“There will be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover,” Mykel answered in an imitation of Maxwell Smart.

“Four boys here for a party,” Clint answered.

“Come on in!” screamed another disembodied girl’s voice.

The boys walked into the living area of the girl’s suite and began to gaze around the room at the decorations on their wall. Frogs, teddy bears, giant flowers, rainbows, children with big eyes, kitty cats and puppies were everywhere. Several maroon and white Spring Valley State College pendants and banners were on a wall, underneath construction paper letters that spelled out school “School Pride.” On another wall, under the word “Tunes” were 45 record picture sleeves and magazine clippings of The Beatles, The Stones, Herman’s Hermits, The Supremes, Gary Lewis, Four Tops, Dean Martin, and Bob Dylan. Under the word “Guys,” were the faces of Richard Chamberlain, Sean Connery, Steve McQueen, Lee Majors, Michael Landon, Peter Brown and William Smith from Laredo, and, looming over them all them was a 38 inch by 50 inch pin-up of David McCallum.

There was also a poster board with the word “Us” at the top. Each of the girl’s senior photos were on the board, along with snapshots of Kathy and her car, which was a Packard Clipper, Grace wearing a majorette’s uniform and a pair of think cat’s eye glasses, Debbie holding a beagle puppy along side her little brother, and Sherry, looking rather sad, in her prom dress with a handsome, but stern faced older boy in a tux. Another photo was Sherry in a cheerleader uniform, but in that photo she had a big smile.

“How did they put all of this stuff up on the walls?” Henry asked the other guys. “The dorm rules say we are not supposed to use thumb tacks.”

“Might be double face tape or glue,” Mykel answered.

“I think glue is against the rules too,” Henry informed the others.

“Henry! Don’t worry about it!” Slick said. “We are here to hang out with these girls, not judge them.”

Another boy walked up and began banging on the open door. He was a slovenly character with oily black hair and cigarette hanging out his mouth. “I’m here for those girl’s party,” he said in a voice like a fork being dragged across a chalkboard.

“Conrad! You made it back for this semester,” Clint said.

“Yeah, I managed pass with some help on some test,” Conrad said with a smirk, then asked, “Who are these guys?”

“Oh, Conrad Welch, this is my new roommate, Mykel Daring; my teammate, Slick Jefferson, and his roommate, Henry Sawyer,” Clint introduced the other boys to Conrad.

“I know Henry, because he was on our floor last semester,” Welch said, then turned to Mykel and made him an offer. “Mykel, if you need to call home, come see me. I’m a phone freaker and I can help you make long distance calls for free.”

“My mom is a bookkeeper for Bell Telephone in Lemming Pond,” Mykel explained. “I can call home for free using her employee discount number, that she gave me.”

“Then do me a favor and don’t rat me out,” Welch said, as he lit another Viceroy off of the butt he had in his mouth. “Also you guys don’t have to call me Conrad. My friends just call me Con.”

Henry whispered to Mykel, “He is a creep.”

Mykel whispered back, “I can tell. He also stinks.”

One of the closed bedroom doors opened and Debbie and Grace walked out giggling about something that only they were privileged to know about. “Wow! Some boys actually showed up,” Grace chirped with giddy excitement.

“Kathy and Sherry went downstairs to get the pizza’s we ordered,” Debbie explained. “would you boys want a drink. We have plenty of Pepsi and Mountain Dew.”

“Do you have any Coke? I don’t like Pepsi. ” Con asked. The girls informed him that they didn’t have any Coca Cola, because Pepsi and Mountain Dew was on sale at the supermarket that week.

“What is Mountain Dew like? I’ve not had any of that yet,” Clint asked the girls.

“It’s fruity tasting,” Debbie answered, as she reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle out. “Here try one.” She popped the cap off with a church key and handed it to Clint, who took a drink and began smacking his lips, as a DJ began doing his breathless patter on the radio, over the opening riff of ‘I Feel Fine’ by the Beatles.

“IT’S 5:10 ON A COLD SUNDAY IN THE OZARKS AT 22 DEGREES AT SPRING VALLEY REGIONAL AIRPORT. I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND I SAY WE SHOULD WARM UP WITH THE BEATLES ON THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

“It’s the Beatles, turn it up!” Grace squealed with glee as Debbie turned up the volume on the Westinghouse radio on the kitchen counter.

“Hey Mykel, is that the radio station you are going to work at?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, it is!”

“Oh wow! Are you going to be on the radio?” Debbie asked.

“Well, I like to be, but I’m not sure yet,” Mykel answered.

“That is the radio station most of the S-V-S-C students listen to,” Grace told Mykel. “You’ll be quite popular on campus.”

“I don’t listen to that radio station. I can’t stand pop music. I listen to K-T-O-C, that radio station that has Dan Smoot and Paul Harvey,” Con said. “I also don’t listen to the Cardinals on the local affiliate. I will only listen to them on K-M-O-X. I rigged a receiver to pick them up here in Spring Valley.”

Kathy and Sherry came in carrying four large pizza boxes. “We’re back!” Kathy announced, as she and Sherry placed the pizza boxes down on the table. We have two pepperoni pizzas, a cheese pizza, and a spicy hamburger pizza.”

“Is this from the Wolves Den in the Campus Union?” Con asked Kathy, who recoiled a Con’s halitosis.

“The Wolves Den won’t be open until tomorrow, when classes start,” Kathy explained. “This is from Sam’s Little Sicily. They have a Back to Class special for students.”

Sherry washed her hands, then sprinkled something from a bottle on her hands, then pulled three bags of potato chips from a box.

“We have chips too!” Sherry said.

“Are they Guys?” Con asked.

“No, they are Kitty Clover?” she answered, as she reeled back in disgust from Con’s foul breath. “We have plain, Ozarks Bar B-Q, and green onion.”

Two other boys walked in. “Hi! Are you the girls having the party?”

“Yes, we are!” Kathy acknowledged. “Help yourself to pizza, chips and soda pop!”

“And plenty for everyone,” Sherry said, as she walked toward her the bedroom. As she passed Mykel, she rubbed his head and smiled at him. Mykel hated when people did that, like he was five years old, but this time, it seemed different. It felt different when Sherry did it. It felt more like she had rubbed another part of his body.

Slick looked out the door of the suite. “Hold on, I see somebody!”

“Oh my gosh! Is it an R. A from another floor?” Grace asked nervously.

Slick walked out into the hall and shouted at someone, “Carlene, get in here and bring your fine, looking friend with you!”

A girl’s voice yelled back, “Slick Jefferson, folks can probably hear you on the Paseo, as loud as you are talking!” Two black girls walked in and Mykel recognized one of them as the girl, who he had held the elevator door open for earlier that afternoon. He thought for a few minutes then remembered her aunt called her Silvy.

Carlene was a statuesque girl, who like Silvy, wore her hair straightened, except Carlene wore her hair in a beehive, where as Silvy had a simple bouffant. Carlene wore silver hoop earrings and matching white eyeliner and lipstick. A S-V-S-C Wolves sweatshirt covered her upper torso and she was poured into a rather snug pair of blue jeans. Slick took advantage of the obvious target and pinched Carlene’s behind, which lead to her slugging him in the arm.

“OW! You bad boy!” she scolded him.

“Carlene, we’re glad you made it,” Debbie said.

“We were lost, we couldn’t remember what number you said your room was after we got up here,” Carlene explained. “Oooh, that pizza smells good!”

Silvy smiled at Mykel, “Hello again!”

Carlene asked, “Do you two know each other?”

“This is the boy that let me and Auntie Charlotte on the elevator,” Silvy explained.

Carlene laughed, “She said you were a short boy with hair like the Beatles.”

On the radio, there was the thunder of kettle drums and a booming low voiced announcer proclaimed, “AND NOW, THE NUMBER ONE SONG OF THE WEEK, ACCORDING TO RETAIL SALES IN THE GREATER SPRING VALLEY AREA AND YOUR REQUEST TO K-I-DOUBLE-L RADIO!” There was a trumpet fanfare to herald, “Lightening Strikes” by Lou Christie.

“Mykel is going to be on K-I-double-L!” Grace told everyone in the room.

“Oh wow! That will be cool!” Kathy said. “When will you be on?”

“I’m really not sure if I will be on the air,” Mykel tried to explain again, so people didn’t get their hopes up. “It is just an internship, not a job.”

“It’s neat that you are going to have an opportunity to to work at a radio station,” Sherry said, as she sprinkled a clear liquid on her hands. She then picked up the bag of plain potato chips and shook them out onto a paper plate, before putting one into her mouth. “Everyone help yourself to some pizza. What kind do you want, Mykel?”

“I’ll have some pepperoni,” Mykel replied.

“Good choice! That’s my favorite,” Sherry told him with a wink. “Do you want Pepsi or Mountain Dew?”

“I’ll have Pepsi,” Mykel answered.

“Now that there are more people here, I thought I would mention again that I’m a phone freaker,” Con announced, with ash hanging precariously from his Viceroy. “I can help you make free long distance calls with the pay phones in the hallways.”

“How can you get free long distance on a pay phone?” Dennis asked with a skeptical glance at Clint, Slick and Tommy. Slick rolled his eyes and the boys tried not to laugh.

“It is a complicated process, but I happen to have the right equipment,” Con began explaining his illegal shenanigans. “You need a solid state AM-FM radio, with a short wave, weather and police call band, an empty coffee can and, the secret weapon, a Krinkles the Clown circus parade whistle from a box of Post Sugar Rice Krinkles Cereal.”

“A whistle from a cereal box?” Slick began laughing. “What do you need that for?”

“The whistles, they give away, in the Post Sugar Krinkles box are the same key as a tone in the Bell System’s equipment. It causes the switcher to think the caller has hung up creating an open carrier line, that can be used for free long distance calls.”

Debbie spoke up, “My little brother calls Rice Krinkles ‘clown Krinkles.’”

“I’d be happy to help you girls make some free long distance calls,” Con said.

“No thanks, we have a private phone in our room,” Kathy said.

“We’re girls. We have to have our own phone,” Sherry added.

Tommy spoke up, “I might give it a try sometime. What is your name?”

“Conrad Welch, but everyone calls me Con. I live on the sixth floor.”

“I saw you in the building quite a bit last semester,” Tommy said. “But I didn’t know your name.”

“My roommate, Reggie Wernikee, was killed in a car wreck last week, so I’m by myself this semester.” Con explained. “Supposedly, the college has a bereavement clause, that says if your roommate dies, the college with give you all A’s for the semester, so I’m going to blow this semester off. Reggie was kind of a pain. He always was afraid I was going to get him into trouble with my phone freaking.”

“My roommate from last semester enlisted in the Army,” Clint explained. “He is probably in Vietnam now, so they put Mykel in with me this semester.”

“Who was your roommate last semester, Mykel?” Sherry asked.

“Ralph Jenkins. I’m guessing he crawled into a keg of Budweiser and drowned,” Mykel joked.

Everyone laughed, but Dennis and Tommy laughed louder. “Ralph Jenkins, that big dope! Spring Valley Fire Department had to get him off the TKE House, one Saturday night,” Dennis laughed. “He was buck naked.”

“He was mad at me because I went home for the weekend and didn’t come bail him out of jail,” Mykel remembered.

“I had a class with him,” Kathy remembered. “I don’t think he ever showed up.”

“He slept most of the time,” Mykel explained. “Then, he would go play pinball over at the Campus Union.”

“Well, he was lousy at shooting pool,” Con added. “I could count on taking him for five bucks every time I played him.”

“Slick, what happened to your roommate, Willie Rails?” Carlene inquired.

“He’s taking off a semester to try to play minor league baseball.”

“That was bad about the electrical fire over at Carver House,” Con said.

“Electrical fire, HA!” Carlene snapped sarcastically.

“Electrical fire, my butt! The Klan torched it!” Slick said. “People in Spring Valley are denying it or covering it up.”

“I have a friend, whose dad is on the fire department, and he said that it reeked of ethyl and kerosene,” Dennis explained. “It was defiantly arson.”

The radio, on the counter, blasted the horns of the station’s jingle and a happy chorus sang, “THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED! K-I-DOUBLE-L WITH SPRING VALLEY’S KILLER HITS!,” followed by Martha and the Vandellas singing “Nowhere to Run.”

“Slick, is your friend hoping to play for the Cardinals or the Athletics?” Dennis asked, trying to get back to the more positive subject, after Con brought up a touchy subject.

“He’s tying out for the Cards farm team,” Slick explained. “The talk in K.C is that Charlie Finley is gonna pull the A’s out of Kansas City. Besides the Cardinals actually win games.”

Mykel was listening to the conversation about Slick’s former roommate, when he felt the warm touch of a soft, smooth, woman’s hand on his arm. He turned and Sherry was standing beside him.

“Would you like another piece of pizza or some more chips or soda pop?” she asked him with a pleasant big smile.

“Yeah, let me try a slice of the spicy hamburger and one of those Mountain Dew’s,” Mykel managed to say through his goofy, euphoric grin. This was a new experience for Mykel to have a girl smile at him and ask him what he wanted to eat, but to put a bow on this late Christmas present, this pretty girl actually touched his arm. Most of the girl’s in Lemming Pond either punched him in the arm or wanted their boyfriend to break his arm. Mykel followed Sherry very close, like a puppy on a leash, over to the table, where the snacks were placed, in a makeshift buffet. She slipped on a pair of Playtex Living Gloves, placed a slice of the spicy hamburger pizza on his paper plate.

“Could I have some of those barbecue chips too?”

“Sure,” Sherry answered, before picking up the sack of Kitty Clover Ozarks Bar-B-Q chips and began shaking the sack gingerly to pour the chips onto Mykel’s plate, rather than taking them out of the sack with her hand. “Say when!” she looked at him still smiling. Mykel was staring into Sherry’s eyes that he almost forgot to tell her to stop. “How about we stop here?” There were about a dozen large chips on Mykel’s plate at that point.

“Oh yes! That is fine!” Mykel acknowledged that he had enough chips.

Sherry giggled as she sat the chip bag back down on the table. “I’ll get you a Mountain Dew.” She turned, opened the refrigerator door and bent over to retrieve a bottle of Mountain Dew from the lower shelf. Mykel watched her and became aware of the smooth, round, plump shape of Sherry’s derriere in her bright, red Capri pants. He was in awe of such a thing of beauty.

“Is THIS the party?” a shrill crackling voice spoke from the doorway.

Mykel looked up from worshiping Sherry’s buttocks, to see a disturbing visage of a girl, holding a cigarette in the air at a forty-five degree angle. She was in a black cocktail dress and pearls, like she was attending a high society function at a country club, rather than a small party in a dorm suite, but what unnerved Mykel was her looks.

She had on white, cream lipstick like Carlene, but with pink eye shadow, which didn’t go together. This was the only makeup she seemed to have on her chalky, white, pimply complexion. This made her look like she had bought with stomach flu. Her long hair was the color of dishwater, after a large banquet of extremely greasy food. She had bangs, but they weren’t enough to cover her large, protruding forehead, that had one single eyebrow straight across her eyes, one of which was sort of unresponsive. The black pupil just seemed to lay dead in the left corner of the iris of her left eye.

“Hi Alice!” Sherry greeted the homely creature.

“I thought you said there would be cute boys at your party,” Alice snarled, before taking a drag of her cigarette, then blowing the smoke out with a grunt of disgust, “Humph!” The guys all looked rather annoyed at Alice’s judgment of them, but Mykel noticed, out in the hallway, the boy who was in the elevator, at the same time he and Silvy were, walking around the hallway rather befuddled and lost.

“Owen!” Mykel called out to the awkward boy.

“Hey, you are the guy that was one the elevator with me and my parents!” Owen recognized Mykel and then he began explaining, “There were some girls invited me to a party. Is this where it is?”

Sherry heard what Owen asked Mykel and stepped over to the doorway, “You’re in the right place! Come on in!”

Kathy chimed in, “Glad you could make it! We have plenty of pizza, chips, and soda pop!”

Owen crept into the dorm suite rather slowly. He was dressed in a snug fitting brown cardigan sweater, over a Spider-Man sweatshirt, Indigo blue corduroy pants and a pair of sheepskin lined house shoes. Alice looked at him with disdain and let out another “Hmph!,” along with smoke from her cigarette.

Grace stepped forward, to help Owen with his snacks, asking, “What kind of pizza would you like?”. In the process, she stubbed her toe and fell against the refrigerator. “Ow!” she whined, before picking up a paper plate and napkin for Owen.

“Is that a spicy hamburger pizza from Sam’s Little Sicily?” Owen asked. Grace acknowledged that it was a spicy hamburger pizza. “I’ll take a slice of that and a bottle of Mountain Dew. Could I have some of those potato chips too?”

“Sure! That’s why we’ve got them!” Grace answered.

“Give me some of the Green Onion chips then,” Owen instructed Grace.

Sherry winced as Grace stuck her hand down in the bag of Kitty Clover Green Onion to get Owen out a serving of chips. “Grace, shake the chips out of the bag!” Sherry scolded her suite mate. “I think it’s unsanitary for all of us to handle the chips.”

“Oh Sherry!” Grace fired back. “Do you always have to be so clean and neat?”

“She was that way in kindergarten too,” Alice recalled. “She would bawl if she got something on her hands, like finger paint or paste.”

“At least I didn’t eat paste or crayons,” Sherry snapped back, as she winked at the boys, behind Alice’s back. “Like you did.”

“Well I’ve stopped eating it,” Alice snapped back. “It’s probably fattening.”

Owen looked at the ‘Guys’ wall display. “Oh Wow! You’ve got one of those giant Illya Kuryakin posters,” Owen exclaimed with awe at the large David McCallum poster.

“My mom ordered that, out of a magazine, for me for Christmas,” Grace explained.

“I’ve seen the ads for those in comic books, but this is the first time I’ve seen one on someone’s wall,” Owen replied.

Kathy piped up, “He is one of our favorite guys!”

“You’ve got a lot of favorite guys on your wall,” Carlene said. “But if I was going to get frisky with a secret agent, I’d go for Alex Scott from I Spy. I doubt he sleeps around with every girl he sees like James Bond does.”

“Which one of you put up the pictures of the guys from Laredo?” Clint asked.

“I did!” Sherry answered, she then smiled. “I like Chad, because he is sarcastic and got nice, thick hair.” She stuck he hand into Mykel’s hair and ran her fingers through it.

“I can’t believe you left Reese’s picture off your wall,” Mykel said, mimicking Neville Brand’s raspy voice. Everyone laughed, except Alice.

“Are you the one who we heard imitating Maxwell Smart earlier?” Debbie asked Mykel.

Mykel quickly proved to Debbie that it was indeed him, by slipping into Don Adams nasal voice. “Would you believe that was Slick doing that?”

Henry laughed, “That is great! Do you do any other voices?”

Mykel then produced Jed Clampet’s voice, “Ooooooohh Doggies! One of these days, I’m just gonna have to have a long talk with that boy!” That, in turn, produced laughter with everyone, except Alice.

“I’ve got to tell you guys,” Clint chuckled. “I’ve been with Mykel only a few hours and I already know how most of the people in Lemming Pond and the people he went to school with talk.”

“That is a neat talent to have,” Kathy complimented Mykel.

“It will be cool if you can do that on the radio!” Grace gushed about Mykel’s imitations.

“If you are into that sort of thing,” Alice sneered coldly, trying to throwing water on everyone’s admiration for Mykel’s talent.

The song on the radio began to fade out, as the DJ came roaring back on his way to hitting the post introducing the next record. “K-I-DOUBLE-L – THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED! I’M WILD WALLY WATSON ON YOUR RADIO AND THAT WAS MARTHA AND THE VANDELLAS WITH A FORMER NUMBER KILLER HIT ON THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED! IT’S HAPPY HOUR! LET’S GET LOADED WITH ROGER MILLER ON K-I-DOUBLE-L!” He stopped five seconds before Roger Miller started singing “Chug A Lug.”

“That song reminds me,” Kathy said. “Debbie, take the stewpot down the hall and fill it with ice from the machine. Grace, why don’t you go with her. It may take two of you to carry it.” As Debbie and Grace got the stewpot out of the cabinet and walked down the hallway to the ice machine, Kathy delegated some more, “Sherry, get the hatbox from my room.”

“The one from last night?” Sherry asked.

“Yes, that one!” Kathy affirmed. Sherry opened the door to Kathy and Grace’s room and retrieved a lavender hatbox from under the bed. She brought it in and sat it on the kitchen counter.

While this went on, Con decided he needed to make Owen and Alice aware of his offer to use his phone freaking hobby to make free long distance calls for them.

“Do you have a squawk box?” Owen questioned Con.

“Not yet, but I’m going to build one,” Con explained. “I have a receiver, with a working dial, and a handset, but I still need to find some of the other parts that go into it. I have a basic electrical repair class this semester, so maybe I can have one completed soon. I can still make calls for you, with the other stuff I have. Where are you from?”

“I’m from here in Spring Valley,” Owen answered. “A call to my parents is a local call.” Con Welch looked perturbed at Owen. “I’m just interested in phone freaking from an engineering viewpoint.”

“So you can do all of this from a pay phone, like the ones in the stairwells?” Alice asked.

“Yeah, that is how it works best,” Con answered.

Sherry was listening as she pulled a package of paper party cups from the cabinet. “Alice, you have a phone in your room,” Sherry questioned Alice. “Why would you need to use a pay phone?”

“So my parents don’t see who I am calling,” Alice snapped. “It shows up on the bill from the college.”

Debbie and Grace returned a short time later with the stewpot filled with to the top with tube-shaped ice cubes. “This is heavy and it is starting to get cold on our hands!” Debbie complained, as she and Grace placed the stewpot in the sink.

On the radio the music stopped long enough for a very serious sounding announcer to say, “This is K-I-L-L in Spring Valley, Missouri, at Thirteen Hundred kilohertz on your radio dial. Owned and operated by the Mary Sue Broadcasting Company. At the tone, it will be six o’clock.” There was a short blast of trumpet, – BAH-DAH!- that signaled the new hour. Then, the DJ came back.

“I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND IT’S THE K-I-DOUBLE-L WITCHING HOUR!” There was a scream of a terrified woman and they played the theme song to the all request show, which was the song “Voodoo Walk” by Sonny Richard and the Panics.

Kathy convened the small group of freshman dorm dwellers, “Okay everyone! We, the girls of 420, have a surprise for you! Since out R-A, Phyllis, is out of town, and Katz Discount City had stuff, left over from Christmas, on close out yesterday, Sherry and I bought some Bacardi, so we can all loosen up and get to know each other.”

“Oh Boy! Booze! I’ve always wanted to try some of that!” Owen exclaimed loudly. The girls shushed him, in case there was a tattletale out in the hallway.

“Did you get any Canadian Whiskey?” Con asked.

“No, just rum,” Kathy answered slightly annoyed.

“I think I may go back to my room then,” Con sniffed. “I think it’s time for Branded anyway. I’ll see you guys around.” He opened the door and made his exit. Henry closed the door behind him.

“I’m glad he is gone!” Henry remarked. “He stinks and he is rude.”

Carlene spoke up, “Somebody needs to tell that white boy to use deodorant!”

“I don’t think it would do any good,” Clint said. “I had class with him last semester and you can’t tell him anything. He would argue with the professor.”

“Oh, tell me about it!” Dennis concurred. “I had a class with him last semester too and he did the same thing. He thinks he is smarter than everyone. Even when you have a simple conversation with him, he thinks his opinion is all that matters.”

“Let’s get back to the important stuff,” Kathy piped up. “Who wants some of this yummy rummy?”

“I would to try some of the rum, if I may,” Owen politely requested. “Can I have some with Mountain Dew.”

“Sure,” Kathy answered, as she put some ice in a left over Christmas paper cup, the girls bought on clearance at Katz. The cups were red, trimmed at the top with silver bells and holly, trimmed at the bottom with mistletoe, with Santa Claus’s face on one side and, on the opposite side, in white, Old English lettering, the words ‘Merry Xmas.’ Kathy poured some rum and Mountain Dew over it and handed it to Owen.

“THAT MUSIC MEANS IT IS THE K-I-DOUBLE-L WITCHING HOUR! I’M WILD WALLY WATSON PLAYING YOUR REQUEST! CALL ME NOW AT TUXEDO 2-65 THOUSAND! THAT’S 8-8-2-6-5-0-0. HERE IS THE FISHER’S HI-BOY FIRST REQUEST OF THE NIGHT…” The opening drums, bass and horns of the song “Uptight” began playing on the radio as Wild Wally talked. “IT’S LITTLE STEVIE WONDER ON THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

“I could use some rum,” Clint said. “But I want mine with Pepsi.”

“Same here,” Dennis said.

“Turn up the radio! I love this song!” Slick commanded. “And fill one of those cups half full with rum and hand me a bottle of Pepsi. I’ll fill it as I go.”

“Do you want ice?” Sherry asked, as she pulled a cup out of the package for Slick, wearing her Playtex Living Gloves.

“Give me about four ice cubes at the most,” Slick instructed. “Those Pepsi’s have been in the fridge, so they will be cold.”

“I should have warned, you ladies,” Clint laughed. “Slick has this down to a science.”

“Don’t you know it!” Slick agreed enthusiastically. “Fix my boy, Henry, up with a drink.”

“I don’t think I should,” Henry said. “I have class tomorrow.”

“Come on, Henry!” Slick raised his voice at his roommate. “We need to get you drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk, Baby!”

Henry cautiously said, “Maybe just a little with some Pepsi.”

Debbie volunteered, “I’ll fix it for you!” Her blonde pigtails bounced on her shoulders as she quickly poured a shot of rum in on the ‘Merry Xmas’ cups, dropped in some ice cubes and poured in some Pepsi, before handing it to the straight-laced boy.

“When we all get a drink and some snacks,” Kathy explained. “We will all go around the room and introduce ourselves.”

“Do you mind if I don’t drink any rum?” Silvy asked politely.

“No, that is fine. If you don’t feel comfortable drinking you don’t have to,” Kathy reassured Silvy.

“So, why do I have to drink?” Henry protested.

“Let me explain this to you, Henry. Silvy is a nice, pretty, Christian lady,” Slick told his roommate. Silvy smiled, slightly embarrassed by the attention. Carlene gave her a nudge and they giggled at Slick’s compliment. “You, on the other hand, are my roommate and you are wound tighter than a hatband. We have to loosen you up before the semester gets going. We need to get you drunk, drunk, drunk, Baby!”

“How about you, Mykel?” Sherry asked.

“Ooooh, I think I’ll have a little drink-ee, then I’m going to go sit on the cow-ch,” Mykel said, appropriately imitating Dean Martin’s voice.

“Do you have to keep doing that?” Alice snapped at Mykel. “That is really annoying me!” Mykel grimaced with anger. Alice was just like the girls in Lemming Pond, she didn’t appreciate his humor. He looked around the room and noticed everyone else in the room, including Sherry, giving Alice disapproving looks, so he decided it would be alright to keeping annoying Alice, so he just switched to another celebrity voice.

“Young lady, I’d like my drink shaken, not stirred,” Mykel told Sherry in Sean Connery, which caused Sherry to smile and the others to chuckle and giggle quietly, as “I Wish You Would,” The Yardbirds, blasted out of the radio, like a late Spring thunderstorm.

“Could we turn down that radio?” Alice asked with a scowl upon her already unpleasant face. “That is headache inducing!”

“Should we turn it down?” Debbie asked, since she was standing by the counter, where it was plugged in.

“It’s not bothering me,” Dennis replied, as he looked around the room, to see everyone’s response. Tommy nodded in agreement with Dennis.

“It’s not too loud,” Carlene answered.

“Fine with me,” said Silvy.

“It’s okay by me,” Henry answered.

“And that comes from a guy who listens to Monitor,” Slick laughed.

“What is wrong with listening to Monitor?” Henry asked.

“That’s what old folks listen to,” Slick answered.

“Well, in a few months, I’ll listen to the Cardinals on Sunday afternoon,” Henry replied.

“At least he doesn’t listen to the listen to the Metropolitan Opera, on Sunday afternoon, like my grandparents,” Debbie said.

“I listen to the opera some,” Silvy said. “I wouldn’t mind being an opera singer, they get paid good money.”

“Are you a music major?” Grace asked Silvy.

“Yes, music education,” Silvy answered.

“You ought to sing at the Cafe What in the student union,” Grace suggested to Silvy.

“I would, but I would need an accompanist,” Silvy explained.

“I can’t stand that Cafe What thing,” Alice snarled. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in there.”

Slick ignored Alice’s comment and told Silvy, “No, no! Try to go to Motown and be a singer like Martha Reeves and Mary Wells, or Dionne Warwick. Opera singers are always big, fat women in Viking helmets. You are to good looking to be one of those gals.” Everyone laughed, except Alice, who let out another, “Hmph!”

Dennis changed the subject rather abruptly, “Did you guys see the Pro Bowl?”

“I would have liked to, but I didn’t have a TV, until Mykel showed up,” Clint said. “Anything good happen?”

“It was great! Jim Brown made three touch downs!” Tommy gave a recap.

“We were watching it in Keith Smith’s room,” Dennis explained. “Do you know him?” Clint answered that he didn’t know him.

“Gayle Sayers fumbled the ball during one play, didn’t he?” Henry asked.

“He did and I’ll bet Lombardi chewed his butt about that after the game,” Dennis laughed, before taking a slug of his rum and Pepsi, then chomping on an ice cube.

“How did you know Gayle Sayers fumbled, Henry?” Slick asked. “We don’t have a TV.”

“They gave updates of the game on Monitor,” Henry said with a smile, before taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh low blow!” Carlene hollered and laughed Slick getting burned by Henry. “That will teach him to make fun of what you listen to on the radio.” Henry smiled and blushed a little, before taking a sip of his drink.

Slick laughed, “You got me that time, Henry! You got me good.”

“THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L – THE YARDBIRDS WITH THEIR FIRST HIT SINGLE FROM LAST YEAR! I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND YOU ARE LISTENING TO THE WITCHING HOUR ON K-I-DOUBLE-L! MAKE A REQUEST AT TUXEDO TWO – SIXTY-FIVE-THOUSAND. THAT’S EIGHT-EIGHT-TWO-SIX-FIVE-ZERO-ZERO. HERE’S THE LOVIN SPOONFUL AND “DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC” ON K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

“Everyone have a drink?” Kathy asked.

“I don’t and I think I am going to need a big one, if I’m going to stay here,” Alice snapped. That comment gathered Alice some rather scornful looks from the others in the room.

“Do you want Pepsi or Mountain Dew?” Sherry asked, as she got out a cup for Alice.

“Ick! Not Mountain Dew! That stuff is gross!” Alice ranted. “Give me Pepsi, but I want more Bacardi than Pepsi.”

“Well okay, you’re highness!” Sherry answered sarcastically. She smiled at Mykel and giggled as she made Alice a drink. Alice gave her icy, cutting stare with her unresponsive eye.

“We need some more chairs, don’t you think?” Grace observed.

“You are right, Grace! Why don’t some of you big, strong boys go down to the study room, in front of the elevators, and bring some of those chairs down here.” Kathy said. “How many will we need?”

“There is a folding chair in our room,” Debbie exclaimed, as she went into the room she shared with Sherry.

“Good idea!” Sherry admonished Debbie, as she walked over to the doorway of there room. “I think it is in one of the tallboys.”

“I found it!” Debbie shouted from the bedroom. The chair banged the door of the tallboy as she got retrieved it. Debbie carried the folding chair into the kitchen and dinning area of the suite, after Sherry stepped back away from the doorway.

“Three of us can sit on the settee,” Sherry deduced.

“I think we will need six chairs, guys,” Kathy ordered the boys. They all got up and started down the hall.

Owen stopped, before he walked out the door, “Wait! What if there are people down there studying?”

“Are you stupid?” Alice growled at Owen. “Nobody will be studying, because classes haven’t started yet!”

“Alice! You don’t have to be so hateful with everyone!” Sherry scolded her.

“You are right,” Owen said, as he walked out of the room with his tail between his legs.

The boys walked down to the study room. “I’ll bet the door is locked,” Henry said with concern.

Dennis turned the knob and pulled the door open. “We’re in luck, it’s unlocked.” He flipped on the lights and they all walked into the gray walled room, with three long tables and eighteen plastic molded chairs. Owen shuffled into the room last.

“I don’t think they lock these rooms,” Tommy said.

“We can each get a chair from the first table,” Clint observed.

“Owen, you can hold the door for us,” Mykel said and Owen immediately went to open the door.

Slick spoke up, “Wait, not yet. Boys, we need to have a quick talk. I have something serious to ask you guys.” The guys listened intently to what Slick was going to say. “I want a show of hands…how many here thinks that cockeyed bitch don’t like us?” The boys all burst into loud laughter and waving their hands in the air in a unanimous vote.

“We are not the kind of guys she likes,” Tommy said. “She likes rich boys.”

“And I have seen her get into some really ugly cat fights with other chicks at parties,” Dennis told the group.

“My friend, Carlene, is a fighter too,” Slick chuckled. “She may clean her clock before the night is over.”

“Maybe Carlene will straighten her eye out,” Mykel joked, while trying to imitate Alice’s creepy eye.

“She called me stupid a few minutes ago,” Owen bemoaned. “The real pretty girl that likes Mykel told her that she shouldn’t be so hateful.”

“What girl likes me?” Mykel asked with excitement.

“That girl that is from her hometown,” Owen explained. “At least, they said they were in school together.”

“Mykel, you lucky dog!” Slick congratulated Mykel. “I think she is sweet on you!”

“Slick is right,” Clint agreed with a smile on his face. “I think you’ve made a friend. She defiantly likes your hair.”

“Oh no!” Mykel disagreed. “That couldn’t be. Girls don’t like me at all. None of the girls in high school at Lemming Pond liked me.”

“Mykle, this is college,” Dennis explained. “Things are different here. Girls try to make friends with boys. I can see she is certainly trying to make friends with you.”

“We better go back, they will wonder what happened to us,” Clint said. “Besides, I haven’t got any pizza yet.”

The boys each picked up a chair and Owen opened the door for them. “Maybe Carlene had enough of Alice the Goon and is snatching her bald right now,” Slick said.

The chair swiping procession passed a room where some girls were making Jiffy Pop popcorn, on of hot plate, while watching Ed Sullivan, introduce a unicycle riding bear, on a small black and white television.

“Hey Mykel! Can you do Ed Sullivan?” Clint asked.

Without hesitation, Mykel launched into his imitation, “Right now, on our shew, a 90 year old woman will belly dance to the ‘Beer Barrel Polka’ in the nude.” The boys were laughing, as they arrived back at the girls’ suite, to find all of the girls, except Alice, singing along with “Give Him a Great Big Kiss,” by the Shangri-Las, on the radio. They had started the party without the boys.

“What took you so long?” Alice snarled at the group of boys as they carried the chairs into the dorm suite.

“We were discussing man stuff,” Slick answered, which caused the boys to burst into laughter, since the subject had been Alice.

“They’re laughing,” Debbie observed with a giggle. “When boys laugh, it is usually something naughty.”

Kathy assumed her leadership role and began instructing the boys, “Let’s place the chairs in a circle, if we can, then everyone refresh their drinks and get some snacks, then we will start introducing ourselves to each other.”

“Mykel, I’ll sit next to you on the love seat,” Sherry said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Since you said you were going to sit on the couch.” Clint gave Mykel a thumbs up.

It became a mad rush as the small congregation of freshmen grabbed some of the pizza, chips, and rum laced soda pop, while the radio continued providing the soundtrack in the background.

“THE SHANGRI-LAS WITH ‘GIVE HIM A GREAT BIG KISS’ BY REQUEST ON THE WITCHING HOUR, SPONSORED BY FISHER’S HIGH-BOY DRIVE-IN, WHERE TUESDAY IS TEN CENT CONEY DOG DAY! I’M WILD WALLY WATSON ON THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L! BACK WITH MORE MUSIC AFTER THESE MESSAGES FROM OUR FINE SPONSORS!”

The commercial break began with a spot for Mode-O-Day Fashion Store and the repetitive, school yard chant-like jingle, which the girls of Room 420, sang along with as well.

“You can save and save and save when you shop and shop and shop at Mode-O-Day, at Mode-O-Day, at Mode-O-Day!”

Alice sneered, “These commercials are so annoying,” as she pulled a gold, sequined cigarette case from her purse, got out a pack of Bel Airs and lit one with a Scripto lighter. She then held it at a 130 degree angel and rampantly blew clouds of smoke into the room.

“Silvy got her dress and sweater at Mode-O-Day for five bucks!” Carlene announced to the other girls.

“Stand up,” Kathy requested. “Let’s get a good look at it.”

Silvy stood up from the kitchen chair and modeled the azure blue, knee-length dress and white cardigan sweater with imitation pearl buttons. The boys made wolf whistles and hooted at her and clapped, with Slick yelling, “Take it off, Baby!” She sat back down slightly embarrassed.

“Did you get that here in Spring Valley or in your hometown?” Grace asked.

“Here in Spring Valley. My hometown isn’t big enough to have a Mode-O-Day,” Silvy explained. “It’s the new store in the Glen Isle Shopping Center, over by Newberrys.”

“I didn’t know there was one next to Newburry’s. I just knew there was a Mode-O-Day downtown, on the Square, across from Kresgees,” Debbie said. “Of course, I don’t have a car, so I don’t get out much.”

“Newberrys had a pair of navy blue marry janes that would go with this dress,” Silvy explained. “But I’ll have to save my money to get them.”

“Speaking of Newberrys, look what I got there!” Sherry said, as she suddenly threw her right leg across Mykel’s lap and yanked off her white anklet to show off a purple plastic band on middle toe. The boys watched from the other side of the room with prurient delight at the nervous look on Mykel’s face.

“Oh my gosh! You got a toe ring!” Carlene exclaimed, as she and the other girls moved in for a closer look. Mykel began to perspire from worrying about the possible embarrassing effects of having a girl’s leg straddling his lap, as well as having several girls staring in the proximity of his lap. He tried to get his mind off the fact that Sherry’s leg was lying in a rather dangerous place.

It didn’t help that the guys were smiling and snickering about Mykel’s awkward situation. Henry was focus on Mykel’s predicament so much that he didn’t know Slick had commandeered the bottle of Bacardi and was supplementing Henry’s Pepsi with more rum without his knowledge.

On the other hand, Owen was preoccupied with placing potato chips on a slice of pizza before munching on it.

Mykel decided that focusing on what was on the radio might calm him down. Unfortunately, at that moment, the Kirby Stone Four was singing, “Come Alive! You’re in the Pepsi Generation!” Maybe it would help if he took a drink of his Pepsi and rum. He also began to pray, silently, that the toe ring discussion would end and Sherry would remove her leg from his lap.

“She shouldn’t have her leg on my lap! We just met!” He thought. Sherry’s leg was warm on his crotch. His chest started to tighten and he knew he would be wheezing soon. “Concentrate on something else, Mykel!” he thought. Try not to look at those guys laughing and pay attention to the radio.

On the radio, a happy sounding chorus singing about what made various nationalities happy, but “To a smoker, it’s Kent! Smooth taste, fine tobacco!”

“Are they all plastic or are some of them metal?” Grace asked.

“I didn’t see any metal ones,” Sherry answered, then turned to Kathy. “Did you see any metal ones, Kathy?”

“No. They probably have metal ones somewhere,” Kathy said. “Just not for sale at Newberrys. Maybe at Zales.”

“What colors do they have?” Silvy asked.

“Just about any color you could imagine,” Sherry explained. “They even had some that were stripped.”

Mykel felt the inevitable was happening. It was stiffening and starting to slowly crawl down the leg of his jeans and up the side of his thigh. Mykel felt it raise up like the ladder on a fire engine. He tried to think of something else. Obviously the guys knew what was happening, because they were giggling and snickering harder. It really didn’t help that on the radio, Stan Freburg was demonstrating to Paul Frees that, on radio, you could turn Lake Superior into a hot fudge sundae.

“Well nobody is going to see it until it is sandal weather,” Alice snapped. “You should have purchased something more practical.”

“Well I’ve got one, so I’m ready for sandal weather,” Sherry snapped back, as she put her anklet back on and, finally, removed her leg off of Mykel’s lap. He began to breath easier now that Sherry’s leg wasn’t going to get poked by his erection. “I also got a new bathing suit off the clearance rack,” Sherry said with a sassy grin. “Do you think that it is too early to buy a bathing suit?”

“She also bought some panties,” Kathy added with a smile. “Nobody will be seeing those.”

Sherry looked at Mykel, with a twinkle in her eye and a devilish smile, “Who says?” All the girls laughed, except Alice, who gave Sherry is disapproving look with her unresponsive eye.

Mykel was glad Sherry’s leg was no longer on his lap, because it would have gotten pushed off. He still was worried someone would notice the effect the discussion of Sherry’s bathing suit and panties was having on him.

“My mother said you should call them ‘under things’ in the presence of a man,” Alice chided Kathy.

“Well, you mother isn’t here, Alice,” Sherry snapped back. “And the stores and the catalogs call them panties. We’re big girls in college. We call them panties.”

On the radio, George Carlin finished extolling the fine qualities of Ozark Airlines, before a group of hyper singers began cheering, “Let’s go, go, go, go, GO! K-I-DOUBLE-L SPRING VALLEY MIZZ-OOO-REE!” After the jingle, “Ain’t Going To Eat My Heart Out Anymore” by the Young Rascals seemed to come bubbling up from nowhere.

“If we are all situated,” Kathy announced, trying to keep Sherry and Alice from having a fight over the proper term for lingerie. “Let’s find out about each other. Who we are, where we are from, what we are major is. Some of us already know each other from last semester, but now, we are all over here together, in a different dorm, I think it would be great for all of us to become friends.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alice griped. “I think we should play a drinking game like 20 Questions.”

“Wait a minute!” Slick exclaimed. “I came here to meet girls and eat pizza. I didn’t know there would be a test!” Everyone, except Alice, thought Slick’s reaction was funny and laughed.

“No, no,” Kathy laughed while explaining. “We may play Moose or Quarters later, but I really just wanted us to introduce ourselves and talk.”

“I think we need to play Truth or Dare or Never Have I, because some people need to explain some things they did over Christmas break,” Alice said giving Sherry a sinister look, which caused Sherry to look uncomfortable.

Kathy gave Alice a peeved look, then went on, “I’ll go first. My name is Kathy Trautman an I am from O’Fallon. I graduated valedictorian from Fort Zumwalt High School. I’m a Communications/Public Relations major and a minor in government operations.

“I’m a Communications/Broadcasting major,” Mykel told Kathy. “Maybe we will have some classes together.”

“That would be great if we did!” Kathy said with a pleasant smile. “I’ll show you my schedule later and we can see if we have any classes together.”

Grace jumped up out of her chair to give her introduction. “My name is Grace…” Her chair tipped over and crashed to the floor. Everyone, except Alice, laughed. Grace blushed, but then continued on with her introduction. “My name is Grace Dalryple and I am from Blue Springs. I am an elementary education major. I’m also a baton twirler with the Wolfettes.”

Slick stood up and pointed at Grace, “I knew you looked familiar! You’re good at twirling that baton, Sugar!”

“Thanks!” Grace beamed with pride. “I wonder if the players are paying attention to us, when we perform our routines.”

“We like to watch to see if you catch it,” Clint spoke up. “We wish some of our teammates could catch as good as you.”

“I’m surprised she can catch that baton,” Alice sneered with a evil smile. “She can barely walk and chew gum at the same time.”

Grace’s joy slid off of her into dejection. Sherry came to Grace’s defense, “You shouldn’t talk. You couldn’t make the cheer-leading squad back home.”

“You were a cheerleader every year in school,” Alice fired back. “Why aren’t you a Wolfette?”

“I didn’t want to be a cheerleader anymore,” Sherry answered. “That was junior high and high school.”

“You seem to be fond of putting things from high school behind you,” Alice said with a smirk.

Owen blurted out, “I assume to catch a baton you have to have a good eye.” That obvious observation caused Henry to get choked on his drink and the other boys began laughing, which then caused the girls, except Alice, to giggle. Alice gave him a dirty look with her unresponsive eye. Owen seemed to be oblivious to why everyone was laughing. Grace smiled at Owen and said thanked him for his awkward compliment. Kathy asked Debbie to go next.

“I’m Debbie Higginbotham and I’m from Fredericktown. My major is nursing. I have an aunt that is a nurse. I have a little brother, Bobby, who is eight. And I have a beagle named Sparkler. He is the best puppy in the whole wide world. I miss playing with him and my little brother in our backyard.”

“K-I-DOUBLE-L – THE BIG THIRTEEN HUNDRED – THE YOUNG RASCALS BY REQUEST AND I’M WILD WALLY WATSON. IT’S THE WITCHING HOUR SPONSORED BY FISHER’S HI-BOY DRIVE-IN WHERE TUESDAY IS TEN CENT CONEY DOG DAY!” the radio interrupted Debbie’s introduction of herself.

Kathy pointed to Henry, “Let’s just continue around the room with you.”

Henry put down his drink and stood up, on rather wobbly legs, as the rum began to take effect on him. While he was getting ready to give his introduction, the radio was doing some introducing of its own.

“CALL US WITH A REQUEST AT TUXEDO-TWO-SIX-FIVE-THOUSAND. THAT’S EIGHT-EIGHT-TWO-SIX-FIVE-ZERO-ZERO! IT’S TWENTY DEGREES IN SPRING VALLEY AND HERE’S MARVIN GAYE ON K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

“I’m Henry Sawyer and …” Henry stopped and asked, “Did he say it is twenty degrees outside? It feewelz like eighty-five degrees in here.” Slick and the boys began laughing and the girls began giggling. Even Alice thought Henry’s inebriation was funny. Henry either didn’t realize he had started or decided to start again, so he went back to introducing himself, while “Ain’t That Peculiar” played in the background on the radio. “I’m Henry Sawyer and I’m from Sssullivan…as in Ed Sullivan. I’m a science major. My new roommate is Slick Jefferson. He is sss-sitting over there.” Henry pointed Slick out to everyone, then turned his back, which gave Slick a chance to add more rum to Henry’s cup. “My roommate last semester left school one weekend and never came back. He was a messy guy. He left his clothes everywhere and he never threw away his Coke bottles or candy bar wrappers. He let his ash tray over run with ashes from his sss-cigarettes. He shmoked Larks.”

“I’m sure you knew that, because he showed you his Larks,” Mykel interrupted with a goofy smile, hoping someone would get the joke. There were some approval snickers. Luckily for Mykel, Henry picked up on it.

“Yes, but I never did hear the Lone Ranger music playing when he smoked them. I hope me and Slick get along good this semester. I will sss-sit down now.” Henry dropped into his chair in an awkward manner.

Dennis quietly said to Slick, “You probably shouldn’t spike his drink any more. I think he is drunk.”

Slick laughed, “Yeah, I think I succeeded.”

“Is it my turn?” Owen asked politely.

“Yes, go ahead,” Kathy answered.

Owen sat down his plate, with a partially eaten piece of pizza covered in potato chips, on a small bookshelf, by his chair. He took a sup of his Mountain Dew and Bacardi, for courage, then proceed to tell everyone about himself.

“My name is Owen Steckly and I graduated from Glendale High School, which is here in Spring Valley. I’m majoring in Drafting and Mechanical Drawing. My parents want me to transfer to Rolla School of Mines to study engineering, but I would rather stay here and minor in art. I would like to illustrate comic books.”

“THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L – HOME OF THE KILLER HITS – I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND THAT WAS MARVIN GAYE. IT’S 6:30 ON A SUNDAY NIGHT IN THE OZARKS AND, BY REQUEST, IT’S THE KINKS, ON THE WITCHING HOUR ON K-I-DOUBLE-L!” the radio squeezed in a quick word after Owen introduced himself.

“That’s stupid,” Alice chided Owen. “You will make more money in engineering.”

As Alice gave Owen a tongue lashing, the Kinks sang, “Set me free, little girl. All you got to do is set me free, little girl. You know you can do it if you try. All you got to do is set me free free. Free free.”

“Well, it is just a dream,” Owen muttered, as he hung his head. “I probably will have to transfer to the college in Rolla after this semester.”

“Owen, you should follow your dreams, if that is what you are interested in. I’m sure there is some money to be made as an illustrator, whether in magazines or newspaper comics or cartoons on TV.”

Sherry spoke up, “My father is a doctor and he has these medical books with very detailed illustrations of the parts of the human body. You could get a job illustrating those drawings.” She then winked with a grin at Mykel and whispered, “Very detailed drawings.”

“Follow your dreams, man. That’s more important than how much money you are paid,” Slick added.

“I really feel that there could be more demand and acceptance of illustrators,” Owen explained. “There is an artist in New York, who takes pictures from comic books and turns them into paintings, that hang in big art galleries. There is also going to be a new show on TV tomorrow night that is based on the comic book Batman.”

“I thought that was on last week,” Clint asked.

“It was on last week, because me and my little brother watched it before we went to prayer meeting,” Debbie confirmed.

“Yeah, but this is Spring Valley,” Mykel began to rant about the state of television in the Ozarks. “We only have two television stations. One is NBC and the other is CBS. We only get a few ABC shows. Sometimes they are on at the right time, but sometimes they are on at 6 a.m on Saturday morning or 10:30 p.m on Sunday night.” Mykel continued. “And that depends on whether or not they are running the Porter Wagoner Show or reruns of Sky King. Sorry I interrupted you, Owen.”

“Oh that’s okay. That’s all I really have to say. I just glad the girls asked me to come here tonight.”

“We are glad to have you, Owen! Glad to make your acquaintance,” Kathy, being a good hostess replied.

“Alice let out another “Hmph!,” after taking a puff of her Bel Air.

More jazzy horns blasted from the radio, accompanied by a steel guitar, playing a “Wow” sounding chord, and jingle singers chipping, “THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED! K-I-DOUBLE-L IN SPRING VALLEY MIZZ-OOO-REE!” After a final blast of trumpets, the radio spurted out the twangy country guitar intro of “May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose.”

“Hey, I like this song!” Henry shouted, but nobody really paid much attention, considering his was drunk at that point.

Dennis stood up and spoke, “I’ll go next, because mine will be quick. I’m Dennis Kemper and I am from Drexel. I have not decided on a major yet, but I’m open to suggestions.” He then sat back down.

Tommy stood up and quickly said, “I’m Tommy Utterback and I am from Marceline. I’m Dennis’s roommate and I also don’t haven’t decided on a major yet.”

Henry, suddenly belted out a mangled version of the chorus of the song on the radio, “May a bird fly in your nose. May your wife wet her pantyhose. May an elephant blow you with his nose.” Everyone laughed at Henry’s drunken musical interlude, except for Alice.

“That is not the words to that song!” Alice snarled, as she lit up another Bel Air, which she then held next to he sharp, protruding cheekbone.

“I’m shorry,” Henry apologized. “Is that your favorite song?”

“NO! I hate this stupid, hillbilly song! I also hate when people sing along with the radio, because they usually get the words wrong and sing terrible!” Alice screeched at Henry.

“Yeah, but Henry has an excuse for singing bad,” Mykel rationalized. “He’s drunk.”

“Oh no, I’m not drunk,” Henry corrected Mykel, then held up two fingers and said, “I’ve only had one drink with rum in it.”

Slick mumbled, “That’s what you think.”

Clint spoke up, “Well, that’s my favorite song and I think you are doing a bang-up job of singing it. I like that song so much I hope someone sings it at my funeral.”

“Silvy, since you sing, you should teach Henry to sing,” Slick said. Everyone, except Alice, laughed.

“Slick, why don’t you go next?” Kathy suggested.

Slick up down his drink cup and stood up, “I’m Slick Jefferson. You’ve probably read about me on the sports page. I’m what they call a pure athlete. I have played football, baseball, basketball and ran track. Here at S.V.S, I play basketball and run track.”

“May I ask how you got the name Slick?” Owen inquired politely.

“I can answer that,” Clint spoke up. “He is faster than any human being alive. He can steal and ball and shoot a jump shot quicker than anyone I have ever seen. He’s like a cheetah.”

“I was going to tell Owen that I was given the name Slick at birth and you ruined it, Clint!”

“You need to tell them that your real name is Clarence,” Carlene pointed out with a mischievous smile.

“Yes, it’s true. My given name is Clarence Jefferson.”

“That’s my grandpa’s name!” Debbie said.

“THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L! THAT WAS LITTLE JIMMY DICKENS BY REQUEST AT TUXEDO-TWO-SIX-FIVE-THOUSAND. I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND THIS IS THE HOT NEW BAND FROM ENGLAND, THE WHO, WITH ‘I CAN’T EXPLAIN’ ON K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

“Did he say that shingers name was Little Jimmy Chickens?” Henry asked.

“Little Jimmy Dickens,” Clint answered.

“He has been Slick since about ninth grade,” Carlene explained.

“Could be worse,” Slick said with a smirk. “I could be named Little Jimmy Chickens.” Slick sat back down and then said, “Clint, you need to go next. They got to hear about that little town you are from.”

Clint poured more rum into his ‘Merry Xmas’ cup and followed it with some more Mountain Dew. He took a quick drink, then stood up and began, “I’m Clint Grogan and I’m from Hermes. There were only thirty people in my graduating class, but we nearly took the state basketball championship last year, but we got beat by Owen’s school, Glendale High. Basketball is about the only entertainment in the winter. In the summer, we go to the drive-in picture show in the next county, but that’s it.

“Tell them about the drive-in, where your friends hang out,” Mykel suggested.

“Oh yeah! You got to tell them the name of that place,” Slick coaxed Clint.

“We don’t have a Dairy Queen or A & W,” Clint explained. But we have a place called the Cream-N-Go.” Everyone laughed at that name, even Alice. “Don’t laugh, they have the best onion rings. They also have a gigantic pork tenderloin sandwich that I love,” Clint continued talking about his hometown drive-in restaurant.

“And Clint’s favorite snack in salmon, straight from the can, with crackers and mustard,” Slick added, which produced sounds of repulsion from the group.

“And I was just thinking how I had the most normal guy in the world for a roommate,” Mykel joked. “Then I find out he eats salmon straight from the can.”

“It just something I like for a snack,” Clint said.

“I’d eat a candy bar or Twinkie before I’d eat cold salmon from a can,” Dennis remarked, as “I Will” by Dean Martin began oozing from the radio, after The Who finished.

“It not that bad, guys,” Clint said. “You should try it some time.”

“Maybe eating that cold, canned salmon is the key to you playing basketball so good,” Slick joked.

“Well, I’ve got to work on my grades or I’m off the team,” Clint bemoaned. “And maybe even out of college.”

“Alice, you can go next,” Kathy instructed.

“It’s about time! My name is Alice Schnatzky and I’m from Knob Noster. I don’t have a major yet either. I’m really just here to find a rich boy to marry. If I do pick a major, it will be something businessy, because I really like money.”

“Is ‘businessy’ a real word?” Mykel asked, with a smirk on his face, which he quickly hid behind his cup, as he took a big drink of his Bacardi infused Pepsi. Sherry gave him a nudge of approval as she giggled at how he had just stuck it to Alice. The boys began snickering too. Alice shot Mykel a murderous look, which seemed even more deadly considering that one left eye never moved.

“As I was saying, before someone interrupted me, I’ve Sherry since kindergarten. I could probably tell you some things about her that would embarrass her.”

“Of course, you know I could tell some embarrassing things about you,” Sherry snapped back with a smug grin on her face. Everyone could feel the tension between Sherry and Alice. The only sound at that moment was the radio, which was oblivious to what was going on in the girl’s dorm suite.

“K-I-DOUBLE-L – A CURRENT KILLER HIT ON THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED FROM DEAN MARTIN. I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND IT’S THE WITCHING HOUR ON K-I-DOUBLE-L! GIVE US A REQUEST AT TUXEDO-TWO-SIX-FIVE-THOUSAND. HERE’S A REQUEST FOR THE IMPRESSIONS AND ‘YOU’VE BEEN CHEATING’ ON THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

“We don’t need to know anything embarrassing about anyone,” Kathy intervened before the situation escalated.

Carlene jumped out of her chair, “I think its my turn. My name is Carlene Jeeter and I’m from Kansas City. Slick and I graduated from Lincoln high. My family lives on Troost Avenue, about a block over from 30^th Street. I work at the Robert Hall on the Paseo. Let me tell you how I got that job. My granny gave me some money for my birthday last year. At Christmas, she gave me my grandpa’s car, which is a 1949, blue Coupe DeVille. But she gave me twenty-five dollars, so I could buy some clothes. I hit Robert Hall first, because they got some cool outfits. If I had money left over, I’d go to Mode-O-Day. So I walk into the ladies wear and started looking around and I noticed that none of the clothes on the women dummies matched, I mean the blouse, sweater, skirts, slacks, belts, purses, shoes – none of it went together, and on top of that half of their fingers were broke off. I’m not sure why I did it, unless it was close to my time of the month, but I just went up to this old, white lady, who was about fifty or so and I said you ought to be ashamed to have dummies in mismatched clothes in the store. You wouldn’t wear a purple sweater with yellow blouse or a pink top with green pants, so why would you put it on a dummy. Is it because they can’t say ‘Hey, you are dressing me ugly’? That old gal got all horsey with me like, ‘I didn’t ask for a little, colored girl’s opinion’ and I said ‘Well, if some of these white shoppers had any guts, they would tell you don’t know how to dress a store dummy.”

Most of the room was enraptured in Carlene’s story and anxious to learn how she got the job, at Robert Hall, after harshly criticizing the manikin’s appearance. Silvy and Slick smiled at each other, having already heard the story several times. Alice glared at Carlene, with her enlarged, unresponsive eye, jealous that Carlene was getting more attention than her.

“This man, that was a floor manager, Mr. Walker, over heard me and came over, because he thought me and the old lady was going to fight. He took me aside and told me that there was a girl, who worked there who was leaving, because she was looking for her first baby and her husband didn’t want here to work anymore. He asked if I would want a job and he would let me pick out the clothes for the dummies. I said I could only work after school and on Saturday. He said that was fine. I worked there all summer and over Christmas break. Mr. Walker is really nice and treats me good, although I think he might be a little on the queer side, because he has a roommate named Bradford and they go downtown to this place called the Jewel Box Theater, where these guys dress up like women and sing along with Ethel Merman records.”

“Are your finished yet?” Alice snarled.

“Yes, I am, Miss Businessy!” Carlene snapped back at Alice. “Your turn, Silvy.”

Silvy stood up, smiled and placed her bottle of Pepsi, on the table, cleared her throat gently, the spoke with a bell-like voice. Luckily, the radio station was in a commercial break, so she didn’t have to talk over the latest tunes.

“I’m Silvia Ford, but everyone calls me Silvy. I’m from a small town in Arkansas called Dubuckhole, that is about forty miles from Fayetteville. I’m majoring in music education. I hope to either teach music in schools or be a music director at a church.”

“Tell them about that big fight you were in,” Carlene coaxed her roommate to tel the group more about herself. Unlike Carlene, tiny, soft spoken Silvy didn’t seem like a fighter, but Mykel remembered what the man with Student Services told him about Silvy, after she and her aunt had gotten off of the elevator.

“I signed up to take the SAT and my principal said the school district didn’t allow colored students to take the SAT test.” Silvy was relating her story to the others, when Carlene interrupted again.

“Tell how your preacher and that lawyer called them big shot lawyers from Little Rock in to help you,” Carlene prompted Silvy.

“He really isn’t a full time lawyer; he is the undertaker in town and helps people with the wills and probate. He and the preacher, at our church, found out about the school not allowing me to take the SAT test, so they contacted the NAACP and an American Civil Liberties Union lawyer in Little Rock.”

Carlene interrupted Silvy with a greatly embellished version of the story, “The NAACP and ACLU came to Dubuckhole and told them, ‘you’re gonna give that little girl the SAT test or we will have President Johnson send in the National Guard and shut the school down.’ After that they gave her the test.”

“No, Carlene, they just told the school they would have to allow me to take the test or they would file a lawsuit in district court,” Silvy clarified what really happened.

“And tell them about what score you made, when you finally took the SAT test.”

“I will, Carlene, if you will quit interrupting me! I made the highest score in the state of Arkansas on the SAT test and was given a scholarship through the United Fund,” Silvy informed the group, who then preceded to cheer and clap for her accomplishment. Even Alice congratulated her on the high score.

“Now tell them about…” Carlene tried to coax more out of Silvy, but she stopped her roommate.

“Why don’t I let someone else introduce themselves?” Silvy replied humbly, then suggested, “Why don’t we let Mykel go next?”

“Yeah, Mykel, why don’t you go ahead and introduce yourself?” Kathy concurred with Silvy and the others began encouraging him to give his introduction next.

“Go ahead, Mykel,” Sherry urged Mykel, “I want to go last.”

“Okay, I will,” Mykel agreed, as he sat his cup and plate down, as the radio station finished the commercial break and played a jingle.

“Oh, I’m sure this will be real interesting,” sneered Alice with copious amounts of sarcasm. Sherry glared at her disapprovingly.

“LIVE WHERE THE ACTION IS – YOURS TRULY K-I-DOUBLE-L IN SPRING VALLEY MIZZ-OOO-REE!” A squeal of trumpets finished the jingle and the Beach Boys began singing, “Round, round, get around I GET AROUND! Ooooo-weeee-oooo! I get around.”

Mykel looked around the room at everyone waiting for him to begin speaking. “My name is Mykel Daring. My first name is spelled M-Y-K-E-L but pronounced like regular spelling of Michael. This seems to make people mad, for some reason. I was named for my father’s uncle. It’s Greek. I was born in Binbury, Vermont. My father died when I was in seventh grade, so my mother moved us to Lemming Pond, which is where my maternal grandparents live. My grandpa was in the Army and was stationed at Ft. Leonard Wood for many years. He’s retired now.

I started going to school in Lemming Pond at the beginning of my eighth grade year and hated it. The kids there had all known each others since birth and I was this short, asthmatic kid with a Yankee accent. Needless to say they didn’t like me. I didn’t have a girlfriend, because the pretty girls were either snooty or protected by guys who bigger than me, and the other girls were big and meaner than Hell.

My classmates, in the summer bailed hay. I couldn’t because of my asthma and allergies, so I spent my summer at the library. At least, the library has air conditioning.

My major is in broadcasting and communications. I’m going to start an internship at K-I-L-L later this week. There are so many great jobs besides radio disc jockey that I would like, such as kiddie show host, horror movie show host or, who knows, maybe one day I’ll be the guy that replaces either Ed Sullivan or Johnny Carson.”

Sherry smiled at him, “I think that it is wonderful that you’re going to work at the radio station.”

Alice lit up another Bel Air and then chided Mykel, “Personally, I think Broadcasting is a worthless major to graduate with, but it is obvious that you are getting into that line of work because you like to be the center of attention.” Nobody was shocked by Alice’s rudeness, but it drew silence. The only thing that could be heard was the Beach Boys.

A devilish grin formed on Mykel’s face and he asked Alice, “Are you suggesting that I should maybe get degree in Business Management, so I can do something ‘businessey’?” This caused everyone to burst into laughter and made Alice mad.

“Sherry, you are the only one we haven’t heard from yet,” Kathy said.

“I might as well,” Sherry sighed, sitting down her drink and plate. She stood up and adjusted her pants, smoothed them out in the back. Mykel sat and watched this with fascination.

“K-I-DOUBLE-L – THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – THAT WAS THE BEACH BOYS AND ‘I GET AROUND’. I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND THIS IS THE WITCHING HOUR. I’M TAKING YOUR REQUEST AT TUXEDO-TWO-SIX-FIVE-THOUSAND. THE WITCHING HOUR IS SPONSORED BY FISHER’S HI-BOY – HOME OF THE POOR BOY BURGER. BY REQUEST IS LAST WEEK’S NUMBER ONE HIT ON THE KILLER COUNTDOWN – THE BEATLES AND ‘DAY TRIPPER’ ON THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED K-I-DOUBLE-L!”, the radio squeezed in a quick segue before Sherry began introducing herself.

“My name is Sherry Ridenhour and I am from Knob Noster. That is where Whiteman Air Force Base is, so I’m used to seeing missile silos out my window. I plan to be a Theater and Speech major, because my mother taught drama and speech at our school. Who knows, I might just up and run off to Hollywood or Broadway someday. My father is a doctor, so I have been raised to have an extreme fear of germs and I’m overly clean, which annoys some people. My hair is kind of sandy now, but I’m planning to go blonde or bleaching it white, when the weather turns nice.” Sherry, pursed her lips, while running her tongue over her teeth, then she smiled at everyone, as if she were laughing at a joke, that only she knew, and she said, not really know what to say next, “Any questions?”

Carlene had a question, “Is that photo, on the wall, of you at prom?”

Sherry reluctantly said, “I’m afraid so.”

“That prom dress is beautiful! Did you make that yourself?” Carlene gushed with approval.

“My mom and aunt helped me make it.” Sherry answered in a pensive manner like she was avoiding talking about the photo.

“Girl, you are pretty enough in that photo to be a movie star,” Silvy complimented Sherry.

“Thank you!” Sherry blushed and grinned.

Debbie, unfortunately, brought up the elephant in the room, or the person in the photo that Sherry didn’t want to talk about.

“You don’t look happy,” Debbie observed. “You look like you pooped your pants.”

“I kind of wish I had, maybe he would have taken me home early,” Sherry grumbled, as she sat back down next to Mykel. “I was miserable with him.”

“Are you stupid?” Alice screeched at Sherry. Everyone, at that point, realized this must have been what was causing the tension between the prettiest girl in the room and the ugliest girl in the room. “You were dating Donald “Chip” Hallwell and broke up with him…and right before Christmas! His family are very important people in town. His family put the knob in Knob Noster!”

“He put is n-n-n-knob in what?” Henry asked, obviously hammered at this point. The boys all began laughing.

“That sounds painful. Putting your knob in a noster, whatever that is,” Slick joked, even though he was laughing so hard, he could barely get his words out.

“The Hallwells are one of the pioneer families in Johnson County and they are very wealthy,” Alice continued berating Sherry.

“I KNOW that, Alice! I dated him for two years. All I ever heard about is their stupid money!” Sherry fired back at Alice. “Other than money and his good looks, he is as boring a picket fence.”

While Sherry and Alice were bickering over Chip, the boys were having fun with Alice’s description of Chip’s family heritage. “Do you think they come in a covered wagon and wore coonskin caps?”

“I’d bet they pulled up in a Conestoga to a bunch of Osage or Kickapoo Indians, who were standing around smoking their peace pipes and said, ‘Howdy, do you have a noster we can stick our knob in?’ Oddly enough, they did have a noster and the rest is history,” Mykel joked.

Alice wheeled around at let the boys have it with both barrels, “Will you idiots shut up! I am trying to have a serious discussion with my friend and you are making light of the situation!”

“Alice, we can just drop this discussion, because I made up my mind,” Sherry retorted, while the radio played a jingle, that was in a cha-cha style. “Lots of girls break up with the boy they dated in high school when they go to college. I want to find someone with something else besides the largest bank account in a small town.”

Alice expelled another one of her “Hmphs!” and blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. In a prophetic coincidence, what followed the jingle was Sam the Sham bellowing, “WWEEELLLL, YOU CAN HAVE YOUR GOLD AND DIAMONDS TOO, ALL I WANT IS A RING-DANG-DOO!”

Kathy felt she should try to defuse the situation and reminded the group, “There is still plenty of pizza and soda. How are we doing on the rum?”

“Looks like we could go around the room, with a shot for everyone, at least two more times,” Dennis stated, as he held up the bottle, before pouring more in his cup. “Could someone hand me a bottle of Pepsi out of the fridge?”

Grace volunteered and then asked, “Do you want more ice?”

“Yes, please,” Dennis answered.

“Use the ice cream scoop or scoop it with one of the cups and then let him have it to drink out of,” Sherry advised Grace, who scooped Dennis a cup of ice and spilled it in Tommy’s lap.

“Ooops! I’ll get you some more,” Grace apologized, then scooped more ice out of the stewpot with the same cup, which caused Sherry to wince.

“So, do we want to play Moose or Quarters?” Kathy asked those gathered in he dorm suite. “Or we have a card deck, we could play President or King.”

“We can’t play Moose, because we don’t have any ice trays,” Grace said.

“We can use some of the paper cups,” Kathy said.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Debbie exclaimed. “Instead of quarters we could use my Super Ball. That would make it more fun.”

“That’s a good idea, Debbie!” Sherry commended her. “Quarters are covered in germs, since they are handled by everybody.”

“And people always lose their quarters,” Kathy added.

“Why would we worry about ttthhat?” Henry slurred. “It’s not like there will ever be a quarter ssh-shortage.”

“But people would want their quarters back,” Kathy answered, realizing that Henry was pretty drunk. Sherry and Mykel giggled about Henry’s strange comment about a possible coin shortage.

“I hate to lose quarters while playing Quarters,” Dennis remarked. “I use all my quarters for either the soda machine or the cigarette machine.”

“Maybe we could play Spin the Bottle or just dance with the music on the radio,” Debbie suggested.

“There are no boys in this room that I want to dance with,” Alice chided Debbie.

Slick threw his hands in air, like a Pentecostal, and hollered, “OH THANK YOU, LORD! I was afraid I would have to dance with that skinny, white girl!” The boys laughed and the girls snickered, but Alice was not amused.

“I think we should play Truth or Dare,” Alice piped up. “If we are really serious about getting to know each other.”

Kathy was reluctant, but caved in, “Okay, Alice, we will play Truth or Dare, but let’s not get too personal or hurtful. For those of you who have never played this before, you have a choice of answering a question with a truthful answer or take the dare, if you refuse, you have to take a drink. Once you have a turn, you pick the next person to go.” Kathy, realizing she should try to keep control of situation, announced, “I’ll start the game off by asking Slick, do you want a truth or a dare?”

“Give me a dare,” Slick answered.

“How about you kiss a girl, in this room, that you find attractive?” Kathy requested. Everyone giggled or made cat calls, as the radio continued to remind everyone of it’s presence.

“THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L WITH THE LATEST FROM SAM THE SHAM AND THE PHARAOHS WITH ‘RING DANG DOO’! I’M WILD WALLY WATSON ON A COLD WET SUNDAY NIGHT WITH THE WITCHING HOUR. TAKING YOUR REQUEST A TUXEDO-TWO-SIX-FIVE-THOUSAND. OUR SPONSOR IS FISHER’S HI-BOY. HERE IS THE MARVELOWS AND I DO ON THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

Slick stood up and said, in swaggering voice, “I’ll do better. I’ll kiss two girls I find attractive.” He then walked over and kiss both Carlene and Silvy on the cheek, then turned around and asked, “Any of you other girls want a kiss?”

“I want a kiss! I never get kissed!” Sherry yelled at Slick with a giggle in her voice.

Slick asked her, “Didn’t your big shot boyfriend ever kiss you?”

“Not really,” Sherry answered. So Slick gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Alice watched with disgust, fuming at Sherry slamming her former boyfriend, Chip Hallwell, and asking a Black boy for a kiss. “Might I remind you that his family put the knob in Knob Noster. You should at least have been grateful that Chip even went out with you once, much less for two years.” Sherry ignored Alice’s little rant.

Grace and Debbie also asked Slick for a kiss and he obliged. “How about you?” Slick asked Kathy.

“Sure,” Kathy answered and Slick gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“I don’t want a kiss,” Alice snarled.

“That’s good, because I wasn’t going to give you one,” Slick snapped back, which caused everyone to laugh. Alice went “Hmph!”

Kathy instructed Slick, “Now, you pick someone, Slick.”

“Clint, Truth or Dare?” Slick asked his teammate.

“Oh, I guess I’ll take Truth,” Clint answered.

“You are a small town, farm boy. Did you ever make out on hay bails?” Slick asked with a chuckle. The others in room giggled about the question.

“Not just on a bail of hay, but in a hay wagon and the hay loft,” Clint boasted, which caused cheers and squeals from the group. Even Alice smiled at Clint’s bawdy but bucolic answer. “Mykel, Truth or Dare?” Clint asked his roommate.

“Truth,” Mykel agreed to answering a question about himself.

“Okay, I said earlier that I liked the song ‘May The Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose’ and I would even like that played at my funeral,” Clint prefaced his question. “Do you have a song that you would like at your funeral or, since you are going into radio, would like as your theme song?”

“Yes, one of my favorite songs, right now, is a song called ‘Let Me Be’ by the Turtles,” Mykel explained. “The words are defiant against how other people want to tell you what to do to fit in. I don’t change to please people and I don’t kiss butt either. That’s probably why I wasn’t popular in Lemming Pond.”

The title of the song and the name of the singing group didn’t register with Clint, but he had been with Mykel enough, that afternoon, to know that Mykel enjoyed being a thorn in the side of everyone in his hometown. A jingle with women singing, “THE NEW SOUND FOR THE IN CROWD IS ON K-I-DOUBLE-L – THIRTEEN-HUNDRED IN SPRING VALLEY MIZZ-OOO-REE!” That gave Clint an idea.

“I’m not familiar with that song,” Clint acknowledged his ignorance of the song, as the Statler Brothers began counting the flowers on their wall. “Hey, since they are taking request on the radio, you ought to call and have them play it.”

“No! Don’t!” Alice screeched. “That’s one of those stupid protest songs! I hate those!”

“I like that song too, Mykel!” Grace spoke up, then began singing the chorus. “Let me be, let me be, let me be what I want too. Let me be, let me be, to think what I want to, I am what I am and that’s all I ever can be. Or at least, I think that’s it.” Everyone, except Alice, clapped for Grace’s impromptu singing.

“You are pretty close,” Mykel smiled at Grace.

“Make sure you get it right,” Sherry snarked. “Because even if Alice hates a song, she will throw a hissy fit if you get the words wrong. Right, Henry!” Henry laughed.

“Why don’t I go into the bedroom and call the radio station and have them play ‘Let Me Be’ for us?” Grace suggested.

“That is a good idea, Grace!” Kathy said. “We can wait until you make the call.”

Grace walked into the bedroom, with her drink in her hand, to call the radio station. Alice spewed out another, “Hmph!” Suddenly, there was a loud clatter with a “Bing” mixed in, followed by Grace yelping in pain.

“What happened, Grace?” Kathy asked concerned.

“Nothing, I just pulled the phone off of the table,” Grace’s voice came from the bedroom she shared with Kathy. “It landed on my foot. I hope it’s not broke. It’s kind of sore.”

Kathy, Sherry and Debbie began to snicker and giggle at Grace’s clumsy antics. Slick said, “I like that little girl, she’s like having both Laurel and Hardy in a cute chick.”

Grace hobbled back into the room, wincing a bit from the telephone falling on her foot. “The DJ said he would get it on as soon as he can.”

“I can’t believe you called the radio station to play that stupid song,” Alice griped, as she puffed on her Bel Air.

“What music do you like, Alice?” Mykel questioned her in a sarcastic tone.

“About the only singer I like is Ronnie Dove,” Alice answered, which caused Mykel to roll his eyes.

“That’s so square,” Mykel groused. “It seems like the radio station in Lemming Pond played him every five minutes. They only music they play is either country music or stuff for old people and squares. No rock and roll.”

A commercial came on for a car dealership bragging that they would sell you a 1965 Chevrolet Corvair for “only $2000,” that was followed by a friendly little group of singers “extending the Walgreens welcome.”

Kathy could tell Alice was about to let Mykel have it, “Mykel, it is your turn to ask a question.”

Mykel thought about what to ask someone. He knew he wanted to ask Sherry if she would ever consider going out on a date with him, but what if she got mad at him, like all those girls in Lemming Pond that he asked to prom, that shot him down. If ever he need some thing to boost his courage, it was now.

“Could I have some of the rum and another Pepsi first?” he asked. Dennis passed the bottle over to him and Debbie got him a bottle out of the fridge.

The low voiced “official” announcer came on after the commercial’s to inform everyone that they were listening to “K-I-L-L IN SPRING VALLEY, MISSOURI, AT THIRTEEN-HUNDRED KILOHERTZ. OWNED AND OPERATED BY MARY SUE MEDIA RADIO STATION. IT IS 7 P.M IN THE OZARKS!” followed by a royal sounding trumpet fanfare. Then the Kingsmen launched into “The Jolly Green Giant.”

“Hey Owen! There is your song!” He was trying to pour himself some rum in his ‘Merry Xmas’ cup and make conversation at the same time. The cup was half filled with rum. His ice cubes began to dissolve quickly, so as much Pepsi, as he could, into the cup without running it over.

“Oh wow! You remembered that we talked about that in the elevator,” Owen was shocked.

“I remember just about every conversation I have about rock and roll,” Mykel said as he took a drink, which bought choked, but gave him the perfect opportunity to mimic Red Skelton. “Oooooo – that’s sssmmmoooooth!”

“Are you going to hurry up and ask a question?” Alice snapped at Mykel as she walked over and jerked the fifth of Bacardi away from him, so she could pour herself some more. She almost poked him in the eye with her cigarette.

Mykel decided to go for it, although for a brief moment he thought about asking Alice if she had a hornet in her butt. “Sherry, Truth or Dare…” he paused as he looked at her with her lips held tight, but grinning behind them and a twinkle in her eye. “If we went out on a date, w-w-w-would you at least hold hands with me or would you kiss me?” Once he had the question out, he took a drink. He also realized he didn’t wait for her to say ‘Truth or Dare.’

Sherry gave him a big smile, “Of course, we would hold hands and kiss. To tell you the truth, I’ve never got to heavy pet and I’d like to try that.” The everyone in room cheered Sherry’s response, except Alice. Mykel got choked on his Pepsi and rum, which was still about 75% rum and burned his throat. Some of it went got sucked up his nose, it felt like his nostrils had turpentine in them. “Quick, someone hand me a paper towel!”

Debbie rolled off three paper towels, then passed them to Kathy, who passed over to Sherry, who wiped the Pepsi and Bacardi off of Mykel’s chin. “Are you okay, Mykel?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting,” Mykel croaked, as he tried to regain his composer. “I never even thought to ask you about that, because I’m used to girls not wanting to hold hands, even if they agree to go out with me.”

Alice, scowling at Sherry, irrupted with indignation, “You mean you broke up with Chip Hallwell, whose family put the knob in Knob Noster, and then you have the nerve to tell this short, queer, dork that you not only would go out with him, but want to kiss and pet with him. Have you lost your mind, Sherry Ridenhour!”

“Wait just a minute!” Clint objected. “Why do you think Mykel is queer?”

“He makes goofy little faces and those silly voices,” Alice snarled back at Clint. “And he wears his hair like those horrible bands from England.”

“So, I take it that you don’t like people, who try to make others laugh?” Slick asked Alice.

“I just don’t fine other people’s humor funny,” Alice snarled.

An impish, mischievous look crossed Sherry’s pretty face, “Isn’t it my turn, Kathy?”

Kathy could tell, Sherry was plotting something and, at this point, she thought what ever it was, Alice would deserve it. “Yes, Sherry it is your turn.”

Before Sherry make her pick, which everyone in the room guessed, by that look on her face, that it would be Alice, there was a jingle on the radio, followed by “La La La La La” by the Blendells.

“Alice: Truth or Dare?” Sherry asked with smile, like she was possessed by a demon.

“Truth,” Alice took a drag off her Bel Air and then blew a huge cloud of smoke into the tense atmosphere of the dorm suite.

“If you don’t tell the truth, you will have to drink a whole cup of rum straight. Do you have any irrational fears that you wouldn’t want anybody to know about?” Sherry queried with her devilish smile.

“Well, no!” Alice snipped.

“Pass the bottle, girls! Alice is lying and has to drink!” Sherry laughed victorious, as she had a dirty, little secret of Alice’s to expose to everyone in the room. “Alice Schnatzky is scared to death of clowns!”

“Clowns? Who the Hell is afraid of clowns?” Carlene guffawed and Silvy began laughing too.

“Clowns? That’s stupid! Why would you be afraid of clowns?” Henry scoffed.

“I’ve always liked clowns and was never afraid of clowns,” Owen remarked.

Everyone was laughing at Alice at this point. She had an embarrassed look on her face. Sherry decided to make her feel worse, so with her impish smile, she began telling the group about Alice’s coulrophobia, “When we were in kindergarten, there was a boy, in our class, Timmy, had a birthday party. His mother had a clown come and do magic tricks and make animals out of balloons. Well, Alice screamed and bawled her fool head off, while clinging to her mom’s dress! I thought she was going to pull it off of her. Her mom said to Timmy’s mother, ‘I’m going to have to take little Alice home. The clown has upset her.’ I, myself thought to clown was cool because that was the first time I had seen a real live clown. I had only seen them on TV.”

Sherry wasn’t finish and with a giggle in her voice, started another anecdote, “Wait, there is more. There was a trade show in Knob Noster last year and our home economics teacher asked some of us girls to demonstrate some appliances, for a department store in town, at the trade show. There was a clown, walking around, handing out balloons and he walked to the booth, where we were making these little sandwiches with weenies, sliced cheese and canned biscuits in a Tappan Fabulous 400. This clown walks up and gives me a balloon. I thanked him for it. He tried to give one to Alice and she starts screaming at the pour guy ‘Get away from me! I don’t want a balloon!’ The clown looked like he had been slapped or something and walked off. Alice is shaking and about to cry. She whined, ‘A clown got close to me’ and I started laughing, because she is a senior in high school and terrified of a clown.”

The laughter was so loud that it drowned out the radio for a few seconds. Alice vehemently tried to defend herself, “You don’t know who it is behind all that make-up. They could be a murder, who escaped from prison or something!”

“Alice, that clown, at the trade show, was a Sunday school teacher at the First Baptist Church of Knob Noster,” Sherry reminded her, as the guys kept laughing. “Those balloons had little cards with Bible verses on them and the church’s address! How many times did you ever hear of a Sunday school teacher doing something to somebody? Let’s face it, for a person with such a haughty attitude, you are scared of something that you should have stopped being afraid of when you were in elementary school.”

“That does it! I’m leaving! I will not be laughed at by someone, dumb enough to break up with a boy, whose family put the knob in Knob Noster! Hmph!” Alice screech, almost in tears. She flung open the door and it hit Owen in the arm, and slamming it behind her. It was quiet for a few seconds.

“Don’t let the door hit your skinny ass on the way out,” Slick chucked, after she stomped out. The whole room was laughing. The song on the radio, coincidentally ended with applause.

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU! THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L! I’M WILD WALLY WATSON AND THAT WAS THE BLENDELLS WITH A SONG WRITTEN BY LITTLE STEVIE WONDER. THAT KID CAN DO EVERYTHING BUT SEE! SPEAKING OF KIDS, SOME KIDS HANGING OUT IN ROOM 420, OF THE BONNER RESIDENCE HALL, AT SPRING VALLEY STATE COLLEGE, CALLED AND REQUESTED THIS ONE BY THE TURTLES. IT ‘LET ME BE.’ AND YOU CAN CALL TUXEDO-TWO-SIX-FIVE-THOUSAND AND MAKE A REQUEST ON THE BIG THIRTEEN-HUNDRED – K-I-DOUBLE-L!”

Grace shouted, “They’re playing our request, Mykel!”

“Cool!” Mykel exclaimed. “Too bad Alice left before she heard the DJ mention us.” Mykel then slipped into an imitation of Alice, “Of course, she doesn’t like protest songs.”

Sherry stood up from the settee with a somber look on her face, rather than the sweet smile, she had wore all evening. “Can I have everyone’s attention? I just want to apologize and say I’m sorry for inviting Alice. I really hoped that she had changed some since she was now at college, but she is still mean and hateful to people for no reason. On top of that, I think she wanted to come to this party to pester me about my break up. If she said something that upset you or hurt your feeling, I’m sorry and I feel I’m responsible.”

“She really kind of invited herself,” Debbie corrected Sherry. “When we were going around the dorm inviting people, we ran into her and she asked if she could come. Sherry hesitated, but finally told her that she could join us.”

“Actually, I ran into her and she said I needed to watch where I was going,” Grace added.

“No, Sherry, you don’t need to apologized. I thought we should have this little party to meet other people here in the dorm and we have succeeded. We have met some good people here and I hope we can keep being friends,” Kathy reassured Sherry, but then changed the subject back to Alice, “But I would also ask, why is she so mad at you for breaking up with a guy? If a guy is a jerk, most people are happy when their friend breaks up with that guy.”

“I think Alice was kind of jealous of me,” Sherry tried to explain the strange dynamic. “She only thinks a boy is worthy of a girl’s attention if he is good looking or rich…”

“So that’s why she didn’t like any of us,” Slick spoke up. The other boys all laughed at his statement, as another K-I-L-L jingle, this one with a Latin Bossa Nova feel, lead into The Beatles “We Can Work It Out.”

“I’m not kidding,” Sherry got serious. “That is how she was raised, you might say. If your family got a Cadillac or Lincoln, her parents would run out a get a Mercedes-Benz. If your family got a swimming pool, her parents would go buy a house at the Lake of the Ozarks. Chip Hallwell had looks and money, the things Alice thinks would make the perfect husband, but I could tell her that was all he had. Carlene was talking about the mannequins at Robert Hall earlier and I know they have more personality and love in them than Donald “Chip” Hallwell would ever have. All of the boys I’ve met tonight are more exciting than Chip.” She then leaned over Mykel and rubbed his hair frantically. He blushed and smiled back at her.

“So, do we want to play a different game now?” Kathy asked the group assembled in the dorm suite.

“Honestly, I was enjoying just chatting, like we were doing before we did our introductions,” Silvy commented. “Besides, it is close to curfew and we all have a big day tomorrow. I’m also kind of tired, because I got up early this morning.”

Everyone agreed with Silvy. They chatted about how their first semester went, their favorite music, and what classes they had this semester. Then slowly but surely everyone decided to go back to their rooms. Before everyone left, Sherry again apologized for inviting Alice.

“Sherry, I know how it is to feel you have to apologize for someone elses behavior, but we know it wasn’t your fault,” Owen consoled her. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be friends with someone as ugly as her.”

Sherry began giggling, “Thank you! I appreciate that.”

Owen left the room and Mykel said, “I was on the elevator with him and his parents this afternoon. I would say he has had to apologize for them. They were obnoxious.”

Mykel and Clint went back to their room and went to bed. Tomorrow was a new semester.

CHAPTER 2

The Greyhound pulled into the bus depot in Lemming, Missouri. Mykel Daring got off and looked around the parking lot, still wet with melting snow, for his mother’s 1963 Buick Electra.

“Mykey!” a familiar woman’s voice shouted from across the parking lot. It was his mother, standing by her car, waving for him to see where she was parked. He picked up his suitcase and carried it over to where she was standing. His mother was dressed in a white, boucle St. John’s skirt suit, with matching white gloves and pillbox hat. She was smiling, but yet he could see tears in her eyes as her approached her.

“Come here, baby!’ she said, as she threw her arms around Mykel and squeezed him tightly. Mykel tried to put his arms around his mother the best he could, because she had such at tight hold on him. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too, Mom!”

Margaret Daring took her son’s hand, as if he were still five, and lead him to the back of the Electra, where she unlocked the trunk, so he could put his suitcase inside. “How is Alvin and Nora?”

“They are doing great,” Mykel replied. “I think Granddad is enjoying being retired.”

“I’m glad. He worked so hard for many years,” Margaret replied. “They sent a large parcel to the house.”

“That’s my Christmas present!” Mykel said. “They told me they would sent it to the house, so I didn’t have to try and take it on the bus.”

“You can open it tonight, when you open your presents from me and Grandma and Grandpa,” Margaret explained. “I’m fixing meatloaf and scalloped potatoes for dinner and on Sunday, I’m going to fix turkey and dressing for you.”

“Great! We had ham on Christmas at Granddad and Granny’s house,” Mykel explained. “I’d rather have turkey and dressing. Ham is something you can have anytime.”

“Does Nora still pour a bottle of Coca Cola over her ham?” Margaret asked, as she opened her car door.

“I think so. She had pineapple rings and bing cherries stuck on it, with toothpicks,” Mykel answered his mother, as he got in on the passenger side.

Margaret started the Buick Electra and the heater, windshield wipers and the radio came on full blast, with the radio blaring Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass playing “Taste of Honey.” Margaret began to quickly turn things off or, at least, down to a reasonable level.

“You received some other mail,” Margaret informed Mykel. “Do you know a girl named Mary Sue Media?”

“Oh great! It’s not a girl, Mom. That is a company that owns K-I-L-L in Springville. That is the Top 40 radio station that the kids at school listen to. I applied for an internship there.”

“Oh, that reminds me, they said on the news that one of the dorm’s at Show Me State burned down. Is there one called Carver House?”

“Yes, that is the colored students dorm,” Mykel answered. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, it happened close to Christmas, so nobody was there,” Margaret explained. “It was shortly after you went to Binbury to visit Alvin and Nora.”

“Some of the girls were going to have to leave Shelby House, because the fire department said that it was up to code,” Mykel told his mother. “I wonder where they will put people.”

As they made their way through Lemming, Mykel noticed that the Christmas decoration had not been taken down from the street lights and some of the store windows. “The snow we had Christmas has almost all melted,” Margaret observed. “Did they have snow in Vermont?”

“Of course, they did. There was about four inches. How much did we get here?”

“I think they said on the news about two inches, maybe two and a half,” Margaret explained, as she pulled the Electra into a Fina station at the corner of Elm and Second Street. The guy, who ran the gas station, came out to wait on them, wearing a heavy jacket with a Fina logo on it. Margaret rolled down the window to talk to the guy.

“Hello, Gene! Fill it up with regular and check the oil, please.”

“Okey-dokey, Margaret! Is that Mykel with you?”

“Yes, I just picked him up from the Greyhound terminal.”

Gene leaned down, to talk to Mykel through the Buick’s window, “How was Christmas in Vermont, Sonny?”

“Snowy and cold,” Mykel answered. “It looks pretty though.”

“I think someone wrote a song about that,” chuckled Gene. “By the way, we have plenty of the Christmas records, we’ve been giving away, left over and the company says we can’t sent them back. I can give you all a copy. If you don’t mind? There won’t be a charge for it, since you are filling up the car.”

“Okay, that will be nice,” Margaret answered. “Yes, we will take one.” Gene then went to work, servicing the car. Margaret glanced over at Mykel with pleasant, loving smile and placed her gloved hand on her son’s hand, giving it a tender squeeze. “I’ve missed so much.” She professed to her seventeen year old son. “We only had a few weeks after you got home from college and, now, we will only have about two weeks before you have to go back to college.”

“Yeah, I wish we could have more time together, I felt I should go visit Granddad and Granny. I wished they hadn’t insisted on Christmas time,” Mykel told his mother. I wish it could have been in the summer. I finally found one thing about Missouri that I like compared to Vermont. It is warmer in the winter.”

Gene finished and came back over to the car window with the credit card holder and imprinter and three copies of the “Merry Christmas From Your Friend’s at Fina” record album.

“Here you and Mykel can each have a copy and here is a copy for your folks.” He then handed the records through the window and to Margaret’s credit card from her and ran it through the imprinter, then handed the holder and pen to Margaret to sign.

“Okay, they’ll appreciate it,” replied Margaret as she signed the credit card receipt.

“Thank you, Margaret! You and Mykel come back soon!” Gene said, while tearing the carbon copy of the receipt off and giving it to Margaret. Margaret said goodbye, rolled up the window and drove away.

“You can play that record, while you open your presents tonight,” Margaret suggested. “I’m anxious to see what is in the box Alvin and Nora sent you!”

“I am too!” Mykel replied as he scanned the back cover of the Christmas record. It featured the usual suspects: Andy Williams, Mitch Miller, Perry Como, Kate Smith, The Three Suns, Ferrante and Teicher, Ray Conniff Singers, George Melachrino Strings, and the Hollyridge Strings. One name wasn’t familiar to Mykel, someone named Aretha Franklin.

That evening, after Margaret served her meatloaf, with tomato paste topping, and cheesy scalloped potatoes. Her mother brought over green beans, that she had canned during the summer, and Christmas cookies. Mykel began opening his presents. He got two pairs of Levis blue jeans, two pairs of khakis, two Polo shirts, and a tie. Then things got interesting. Mykel unwrapped a Dutch Master cigar box of his Grandpa’s that contained three paperback, compilations of article and photos from Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine.

“Thank you! I’ve never seen these in the stores, even in Springville,” Mykel said with amazement. “I thought you could only order them out of the back of the magazine.” Mykel then took the other two gifts his mother handed him to open. They both looked like record albums.

“We found those at a Woolworth, when we went to Cousin Gerty’s funeral,” Margaret explained to her son, as she handed him two more presents. “Here open these next.”

Mykel opened the first one, wrapped in red paper, with pictures of smiling snowmen all over it. He tore into the paper to find a white cover. Another rip of the paper and he saw the word ‘HIGHWAY’ in big, bold golden-brown letters. Then he tore the paper some more to expose a sullen Bob Dylan in a blue paisley jacket staring back at him. “Oh wow! Highway 61 Revisited! I’ve been wanting this record!”

“That one is from me!” Margaret stated watching her son’s joy as he finished unwrapping the Bob Dylan LP.

“I bought the other one for you,” his maternal grandmother spoke up. Mykel began to unwrap the other record, which was wrapped in red and green paper. Under that paper, was an album cover with green trees on it and chubby, odd-shaped, orange letters reading RUBBER SOUL. Mykel ripped the rest of the paper to show the slightly distorted photo of The Beatles on the cover.

“Thank you, Grandma!”

“You’re welcome, Mykey honey,” his grandmother said. “I wanted to get that one for you, since I more familiar with The Beatles and their songs.”

“What is the song on that record that you said you like, Ma?” Mykel’s grandpa asked.

“Michelle,” his grandma replied. “I think that is such a cute little song.”

Grandpa moved a large package over to where Mykel was sitting. “Now, Mykel, I bought this from an ad in the back of American Legion magazine. Nothing exciting, but I thought this would be a good thing to have in the trunk of your car, in case of a break down or something.”

Mykel tore off the wrapping paper, which was silver with blue angels, to discover a red, metal tool box with the words ‘Roadside Emergency Kit,’ painted on in it black. He opened it ti find several sizes of flashlights, ropes, chains, hooks, a jack, sever wrenches, ratchets, screwdrivers, jumper cables, a detachable gas can, a belt to carry the tools, and a small case of what looked like tiny, glass eggs.

Mykel asked his Grandpa, “What are these things?”

“Those are called self-igniting road flares,” Mykel’s grandpa informed him. “You don’t have to strike a match to light those. You break them on the ground and they put off a light. Be careful with those.”

“There is a bunch of stuff here,” Mykel said, overwhelmed by the gift.

“Well, I hope you never need to use some of that equipment, but at least you will have it just in case you have car trouble.”

“Open the big package from Alvin and Nora,” Margaret requested.

Grandpa carried the large parcel, wrapped in blue paper with white snowflakes on it, to the living room and gave Mykel his pocket knife to open the box that was underneath. Under the wrapping paper, Mykel found a cardboard box with the words ‘Zenith 12 inch black and white television’ on the side.

“Wow! A TV! I can take this back to college with me!” Mykel exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Remember Mykel, you are in college to study,” Margaret reminded him.

“I know, Mom,” Mykel acknowledged her with a twinge of sarcasm.

Later that evening, after Mykel’s grandparents went home, Margaret brought his mail to him to read, while he watched Laredo. Mykel was confused by the episode, because he was trying to figure out how the British pop singers Chad and Jeremy got in a Western.

“I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. I’d like to stay up to watch Dean Martin, but I’m really tired,” Margaret said, before she kissed Mykel’s cheek. “I’m so glad to have you home, Sweetheart! Goodnight.”

“Good night, Mom! I love you!”

As bad as Mykel wanted to read the letter from Mary Sue Media, he thought he should probably read the letter from the Show Me State College Housing Department first, because it might be important, since his mom mentioned a fire destroying one of the dorms. He opened the letter and began reading:

“January 3, 1966. Dear Mykel Daring: We hope you are enjoying your Christmas break. We feel there are many things to make you aware of before the start of the spring semester. We regret to inform you that your roommate from this past semester, Ralph Jenkins, will not be returning, due to his academic performance. We have assigned you a new roommate, Clinton Grogan of Hermes, Missouri. You will also be relocated to his room, which is 515 in Bonner House.”

“There are some temporary changes at Chester Ambrose Bonner House due to some unfortunate circumstances. The George Washington Carver House was destroyed by fire on December 22, 1965. Since there were a small group of students that resided in the Carver House, we will be desegregating the Bonner House. This will also be in compliance with President Johnson’s Civil Rights Act. If you feel uncomfortable about living in the same dorm as Negro students, please contact us and we will try to find different housing accommodations for you.”

“We also need to inform you of another situation. The Springville Fire Department has mandated that we bring the Flora Olivia Shelby House up to code, since it was built in 1922. This remodeling project will take place over the next year or two. The trend at other colleges and universities is co-ed dorms. We, at Show Me State College, have chosen to experiment with co-ed dorms by allowing the small group of girls displaced by first stage of construction at Shelby House do reside this semester at Bonner House. The girls and boys will be on separate floors. As with the Negro situation, if you have an objection to being in the same dorm as females, contact us and we will try to make other arrangements for you. Hope to see you for the spring semester!”

Mykel was not surprised that Ralph Jenkins flunked out, because he slept most of the time and rarely went to class. Mykel also didn’t have a problem with the students from Carver House students moving into Bonner House, because after all they were humans too.

The thing that caught Mykel’s attention was the last part about Shelby House. The formal language and explanation couldn’t hide the different meaning Mykel read. To Mykel it said: THERE WILL BE GIRLS IN YOUR DORM! YOUR DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE! Mykel thought maybe this meant he would finally be able to meet a girl who would go out with him.

He was so excited about girls being in the dorm, that he almost forgot about the letter from Mary Sue Media. He tore it open, even though he worried it might be a condolence letter saying that he couldn’t be an intern.

“Dear Mykel: Thank you for expressing interest in an internship at our radio station. Sol Ketner, the general manager of K-I-L-L – The Big 1300, has chosen you to be the intern for the spring 1966 semester, because your letter show genuine enthusiasm for Top 40 radio and broadcasting in general. We would like for you to meet with us on Tuesday, January 25 at 4 p.m., to discuss what you will be doing. Sincerely, Lance Powers, Program Director.”

Mykel was so excited about the internship that he ran to his mom’s bedroom to tell her the good news. “Mom, I’ve got the K-I-L-L – Big Thirteen Hundred internship.”

Margaret rolled over to see who had just woke her up. She realized it was Mykel, but still wasn’t sure what he said. She groggily tried to talk to him. “That’s nice, Mykey, but why do you need thirteen, one hundred year old ships?”

“Never mind, Mom,” Mykel realized his mother was too sleep to talk to him. “I will tell you about it in the morning.”

The heavy, walnut door swung open and Mykel Daring walked into his office at the university. He threw his keys on his desk, in front of the framed photo of his grandchildren, and then place his mail next to it, so he could prop the door open with the rubber stopper. He then flipped on the overhead light and sat down at his desk. The red light on his answering machine flashed, indicating he had a message. He pushed the button to hear the soothing voice of his wife, Julie.

“Mykel, it’s me. Just want to let you know that they called an emergency faculty meeting after school today. It is either a shooter threat or stomach flu outbreak.” Mykel moved the mouse to wake up his computer, so he could check his e-mails, to see what excuses his students would use for not coming to his two o’clock Modern Communications class. “I have a meatloaf in the fridge, all you need to do is put it in the oven at 400 degrees. The potatoes and green beans are in the crock pot. Oh, could you make some ice tea? I’ll should be home about the time it is ready. Love you, Honey. Bye!”

There were only two student e-mails. One person was going to an uncle’s funeral and one person had a sinus infection, which meant he would have a good turn out for today’s lecture.

Mykel noticed one of the envelopes, in his mail, was from Springville, Missouri. For once, it was not from the Show Me State University Alumni Foundation, which was always asking for a donation, but from a person he didn’t know. Curiosity forced Mykel to rip open the envelope to find out who in Springville, Missouri, sent him an old fashioned, hand addressed, snail mail, letter.

“Dear Professor Daring: I am the nephew of Clinton Grogan, your roommate at Show Me State. I work as a technician at the Ralph A. Dix Medical Center in Springville. Once a week, I put on a Batman costume that I had wore to a Halloween party, before I was deployed during Desert Storm, and visit the children in the pediatrics ward. They enjoy and it brightens there day. My mother said it was a coincidence, because Uncle Clinton and you dressed as Batman and Robin, when the TV show was popular. She showed me a newspaper article about what you did and some snapshots of you guys in your costumes. It sounds like you had an interesting experience. I would love to hear more about it. My uncle died before I was born, so I never had a chance to meet him. If you can, send me an e-mail telling me about what happened. My e-mail is springvalleybatman@gmail.com. Sincerely, Justin Kelly.”

Clinton Grogan. Mykel thinks about his former roommate every Veteran’s Day, when the Communications Department reads the names from the Vietnam Memorial Wall. Mykel was 4-F, so he stayed in college to obtain a degree in Broadcast Media with a minor in Communications. Playing Robin the Boy Wonder was a short lived experience. Clint traded being the first Batman of Springville, for being Private First Class Clinton Grogan of the 25th Infantry Division in Vietnam. He would then become a ground casualty in Hua Nghia. He would be nineteen year old Private First Class Clinton Grogan of the 25th Infantry Division in Vietnam forever. Never to marry, raise kids, enjoy grandkids or have a retirement party. Just another name, among others, who met a similar fate, on the Memorial Wall. Nobody, who read his name on the Memorial Wall, knew that he spent the spring of 1966, dressed in a homemade Batman costume, attempting to do good deeds, emceeing hootenannies and frat parties, and like the real Batman, coming close to being killed by a bunch of thugs, while rescuing friends.

Mykel thought about it some more. It was over fifty-five years ago. What do you tell a young man, who has his own war experience, about the goofy thing his uncle did before he went to die in a war? He really didn’t have time to think about it now, because he had a COM 120 class to teach, then head back to the college radio station to give the newscast during All Things Considered. He would wait and get Julie’s opinion on what he should tell the young man.

*****

Mykel had dinner on the table and had made iced tea, when Julie arrived home from the world of suburban high school. As they ate, she related tales of unruly students, missed assignments and the screwy non-issue that panicked the principal, so bad that he had to call a faculty meeting.

“Anything interesting happen to you today?” Julie asked.

“I received a letter from the nephew of my college roommate, Clint Grogan,” Mykel explained, as he stabbed a small, gold potato with his fork. “He wanted to know about us dressing up as Batman and Robin.”

“I don’t remember hearing about that,” Julie laughed, then asked, “Why does he want to hear about it?”

“He works at a hospital and visits the children in the pediatric ward dressed as Batman and his mother told him about me and Clint doing that for a psychology class experiment and how it got out of hand. His mother showed him a photo of us in our costumes. I assume it is Clint’s little sister…I can’t remember her name.”

“I would LOVE to see a photo of you dressed as Robin,” Julie laughed. “I assume you were Robin, since you are shorter than most people.”

“I must not be too short, you married me!” Mykel chuckled. “I think there was a photo of us, dressed as Batman and Robin, in the yearbook. I may also have that article they wrote up in the newspaper about us. We were in trouble for doing it. The Springville Police Department threatened to lock us up for being a public nuisance.”

“Why? That’s silly!”

“You would have to know what that community was like. They didn’t have a sense of humor. I figured that out when I worked at the Top 40 station in that town. You should have heard some of the stupid things people would call and complain about. The adults in that town hated that radio station and the college kids too.”

“Wait…I just thought of something,” Julie said. “Is Clint the roommate who was on the basketball team with your friend, Clarence, that is the basketball coach in Oklahoma? Maybe you should call him. He might help you think of something to tell this guy.”

“Yeah, I’ll call Slick, because he knew Clint before I did,” Mykel paused, then added. “At least for a semester before I met him. I will call him, after we put the dishes in the dishwasher.

******

Julie went to work grading student essays and, occasionally, shouting an expletive at something stupid one of the kids had wrote. Mykel went to his den and took the Ozarky 67, Show Me State College yearbook, off his bookshelf, and began thumbing through it, while he dial Slick’s cell phone.

“You have reached Coach Clarence Jefferson. Please leave your name and number. I will return your call as soon as I can.”

“This is Professor Mykel Daring at Crossroads State University. Just wanted to ask you about…”

The signal for an incoming call made its “bloop-bloop” noise in Mykel’s ear. He looked at the phone and saw it was Slick returning his call, so he answered it.

“Hello?”

“MMMYYY-KEL! You trying to call me?” the jovial, bass voice on the other end of the line asked.

“Slick, glad I caught you!”

“I saw your number and thought, ‘I can’t blow off a call from Mykel.’ What’s up?”

“I got a letter from Clint Grogan’s nephew, he was wanting to know about our little adventure as Batman and Robin, but I thought I’d ask you, since you guys played basketball together, what should I tell him about Clint? What is one of your favorite memories?”

“How about telling him about the time me and Clint walked in on you and that blonde girl ‘heavy petting’? She was wearing rubber gloves and had a huge bottle of hand lotion!” Slick began to laugh. “I wish you could have seen the look on you and her faces.”

“I think I’ll leave that story out,” Mykel replied with a giggle. “I haven’t told Julie about that.”

“Seriously, Clint had great potential as a player,” Slick explained. “Too bad his grades and old man got in the way.”

“I think he was only allowed to play twice when we were roommates,” Mykel reminisce. “But what I saw in those games was good.”

“Oh man! Clint was a machine. When you threw him the ball, his hands were like magnets and he caught that ball everytime. He would then pass it to someone else, so fast that the other teams ears probably popped, as it went by their face. I’ve coach many kids, but never had a player as good as Clint,” Slick’s voice trembled a bit as he grew maudlin remembering his teammate. “He was a great player and an even greater person. We bonded, because we loved basketball. That was unusual for that time, because Clint was, what they called back then, a hayseed farmboy, and I was a cocky black kid from K.C.”

“Remember, the name of his hometown was pronounced ‘HER-MISS’, but spelled like the Greek god, Hermes,” Mykel chuckled. “Because Missouri can’t pronounce the names of their towns right. Like Ver-sales is spelled like the place in Versailles, France.”

Slick chuckled, “You never did like Missouri, did you?”

“Nope, I was a dyed-in-the-wool New Englander,” Mykel said. “But the happiest I was, when I lived in Missouri, was when I attended Show Me State and worked at K-I-L-L. My mother moved me to Lemming, where her family was, when my father was killed. I never fit in there because the people were either snobs or rednecks…some were both. It died when they decommissioned Route 66 and built I-44. There is very little there now. At S.M.S, I made several friends, like you and Clint. Then again, I don’t think Clint had any enemies. I made enemies every five minutes.”

“Hey man, you made and impression on my wife, the first time you met,” Slick admonished Mykel. “And her aunt talked about you holding the elevator door open for them, until the day she passed away. Always called you that tiny, white boy, with hair like the Beatles and talked like President Kennedy.”

“My mother taught me to hold the door open for ladies,” Mykel explained.

“Yeah, but that was 1966 and they were black.”

“True,” Mykel agreed, as he turned another page in the yearbook to find what he was searching for. “Oh wow! I just found a photo of me and Clint dressed as Batman and Robin in the yearbook! I’ve got to show Julie this! Say, why don’t you e-mail me some of your memories of Clint and I’ll send it to his nephew with my memories.”

“I’ll do that,” Slick said. “Your e-mail still daring-npr@crossroadsumail.com?”

“Absolutely.”

“I send it as soon as I can! Great talking to you again, Mykee!”

“It’s always good to talk to you. Tell Silvy hello.”

“I will. Good bye!”

Mykel arose from his desk chair and went into the living room, where Julie was grading essays with the Food Network on as background

“Can you believe a student turned in an essay with only THREE sentences in it?”

Mykel held the yearbook, up to Julie’s face, to show her the photo of he and Clint as Batman and Robin. She burst in to laughter.

“That is so funny!” Julie picked up the remote and turned off the television. “Why don’t you tell me about little escapade and I’ll decide what you should tell your roommate’s nephew?”

“Okay, but you promise you won’t get mad if I talk about what I did with a girl I liked back then?” Mykel nervously broached the delicate subject to his wife of thirty-seven years.

“I won’t,” Julie smirked. “I’ll just remember that I’m eleven years younger than you and she is probably an old woman now.” She smiled and giggled. “I’m, technically, still in my fifties.”

Mykel rolled his eyes, which made her laugh. “I’ll just stick to our adventures as the Dynamic Duo of Springville, Missouri. Looking back, we were young and stupid. We probably could have gotten ourselves killed, trying to actually do something Batman and Robin would do, but we saved two peoples lives, which made it worth it.”

“Wait! I’m really interested in this now! But back up a bit. You should start by telling me about your first meeting with Clint or the first time you heard his name,” the high school English teacher in Julie instructed her husband.

“I remember the first time I heard of Clint Grogan was the same day I found out I was getting my first job in radio,” Mykel told Julie. He then began to tell her the whole crazy thing.

Here is an article I wrote for my other blog on this story & the story from the Springfield Daily News.

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https://newadventuresofdesdinova.blogspot.com/2012/07/note-this-was-originally-posted-on.htmlml

Mykel drove Route 66 into Springville, Missouri, until he came to Federal Avenue, then turned left and headed to the Chester Ambrose Bonner Residence Hall at Show Me State College. He parked as close as he could to the back lobby doors, because he knew his record player and new TV would be heavy. He got his ID out of his wallet and showed it to the lady that was checking in the students, who had waited until Sunday, the day before the first day of second semester classes, to move in. Mykel noticed there were not as many parents helping students like there were in the fall semester.

“Is your name pronounced MY-keel or Michael?” the lady asked.

“It’s Michael, as in row your boat ashore.”

“Okay, Mykel Daring, you are in Room 515 and your roommate this semester is Clinton Grogan,” the lady informed him as she handed back his I.D, along with a room key. “Do you need a push cart for your things?”

“Yes, I will need one,” Mykel answered. The lady turned to a middle-aged man standing behind her,

“Gerald, this young man needs a cart for his things.” The man got one of the large carts and followed Mykel to the Impala. They loaded the portable TV, record player, clock radio and his two suitcases into the cart.

“Sir, I can take this on the elevator up to my room,” Mykel offered to more self sufficient.

“That’s nice of you, but I have to check you in with your resident assistant,” the man explained, then, trying to make conversation said, “So, you are from Lemming Pond?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to rub it in,” Mykel answered. The man laughed, as he wheeled the cart full of Mykel’s things toward the elevator, where a fat man, in a gray, wool suit and red, white and blue necktie, stood with his wife, who was wearing a pink dress with violets printed on it. They were accompanying their son, who was a chubby kid wearing horn-rimmed glasses with fruit-jar lenses and his hair parted straight down the middle of his head, so everyone could see the white of his scalp.

“You do have your toothbrush, don’t you, Owen?” the boy’s mother interrogated him.

“Yes, Mother,” the boy answered.

“I’m not sure why you wanted to live in the dorm this semester,” the boy’s father griped. “We only live to miles from campus. You could ride your bicycle to school, like you did last semester. This is going to cost us money! In the dorm, we won’t be able to supervise you and your grades could suffer. You know you will need good grades to transfer to the Rolla School of Mines. We really don’t want you to get a degree from Show Me State.”

“Yes, Father,” the boy answered, like a whipped dog.

The elevator door opened and a some girls walked out, giggling and chatting up a storm. Mykel smiled, thinking about how wonderful it would be having girls in such close proximity. The other boy perked up as well, ogling the cheerful young ladies go past him and causing his parents to frown harder.

Jerry from Student Services grabbed the elevator door and inquired of the grumpy couple, “What floor do you need to go to?”

“The third floor,” Owen’s mother said.

“Okay, I’ll get in back with the cart and Mykel can get by the control panel, that way, you folks can get out easy when we get to the third floor,” Jerry explained. He got into the elevator first and then pulled the cart into the elevator’s car behind him. Mykel got in by the door next to the control panel and the family got in last, moving to the side of the cart.

Mykel pushed buttons “three” and “five.” The doors began to close, when a woman’s voice shouted from the lobby, “Hold the elevator!” Mykel stuck his arm out and stopped the doors before they closed. A heavy set, African American woman in a Jackie Kennedy-inspired pink dress suit, with a matching hat, walked into the elevator car, accompanied by trim African American girl in a sky blue dress, white cardigan with a gloves and pillbox hat to match the sweater.

Owen’s parents scowled at the woman and girl, then shot a dirty look at Mykel, who paid them no attention. “What floor, ladies?” he asked, as the doors closed.

“Fourth floor,” the girl, smiled at Mykel and spoke in a tiny, quite voice.

“Now, if you need anything, Silvy, you call me or call the elementary school,” the woman instructed the girl, as the elevator began to ascend toward the assigned floors.

“I will, Auntie Charlotte,” the girl answered. “And thank you for taking me to your church this morning, although I wish you hadn’t told them I would sing a special. I don’t think I did my best.”

“Honey, you always sing so beautiful and everyone bragged on you,” the girl’s aunt reassured her. “I sure the Lord liked it and his opinion is the only one that matters.” The girl smiled at her aunt’s statement.

Owen’s father looked into the cart. “You got a lot of stuff for a short kid. Looks like your one of those kids who came here to party,” he snarled.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mykel answered, knowing that the man felt he would insult Mykel to get back at him for allowing two women of another race to ride the same elevator as his family.

“You seem also small to be in college,” the mother said, feeling it was her turn to jab Mykle in retaliation for his niceness toward women of another color.

Owen was looking into the cart and observed, “You have a cool record player!”

“Yeah, I got Rubber Soul and Highway 61 Revisited for Christmas,” Mykel explained. “I hope I can hook this up and listen to them tonight.”

“I only have one record,” Owen said. “My parents let me get a 45 of ‘The Jolly Green Giant’ by The Kingsmen.”

“Your parents must have a thing about people’s heights,” Mykel said sarcastically. The girl let out a tiny snicker. Mykel could see her aunt, pursing her lips tight, holding in a laugh. She then put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a ‘good job’ pat.

The bell sounded, the doors opened and Owen’s father gave Silvy and Auntie Charlotte a shove. “Come along, Owen! This is your floor!” he commanded as his wife and son followed. Owen was the only one to say ‘excuse me’ as he left the elevator. The doors closed behind them.

“I’m sorry, young lady,” Jerry from Student Services apologized. “That man was very rude. I can see why their son was wanting to live in the dorm.”

“They were a hateful bunch,” Mykel said.

“We’re used to people like that,” Silvy’s aunt said. “I think they are a local family. They look awfully familiar.” The man from Student Services told how the parents had bossed their son before they got on the elevator. “Well, thank you for being so nice, young man,” the aunt said to Mykel. “You’re awful nice for a short boy,” She then gave Mykel a wink, patted his back and gave a big, loud laugh.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Mykel replied. “And I’m used to snide remarks about my height.”

The bell chimed and the elevator stopped to let the ladies off. “Nice talking to you, gentlemen!” the aunt said, as she and Silvy exited the car of the elevator.

When the doors were closed, Jerry from Students Services said to Mykel, “You did the right thing by holding the elevator door for those women. That was very brave.”

“My mom always told me to hold an elevator door, or any door, for a woman, no matter who they are,” Mykel explained. “Are they from Spring Valley?”

“The aunt is. She is the cook at my son’s elementary school,” Jerry explained. “Her niece is from Arkansas. The funny thing is the her school tried to keep her from taking the SAT. The ACLU and NAACP stepped in and told them they had to let her take the test. She wound up making the highest score in Arkansas and, I think, she was in the top 20 percentile in the entire United States.”

“Wow! Sounds like she is a very smart girl,” Mykel observed.

The elevator’s bell chimed and the doors opened onto the fifth floor. Mykel pushed his cart out of the elevator and Jerry followed him out. There was a long folding table in the lobby and hanging from the front of it was a paper banner, reading “Welcome to Bonner Hall’s Fifth Floor!” in maroon letters. Sitting behind the table was a dapper, clean-cut, blonde boy in a red, pull-over sweater with a white shirt and dark, blue, necktie underneath. The boy was wearing a pin on his sweater reading “Re-elect Mayor Arthur Thomason.” On the boy’s left was a cute girl with jet black hair in a bouffant, held in place with a white headband.

Jerry from Student Services pointed to the young man, “Mykel, this is your R. A.”

“Hello, I’m Randal Thomason!”

“I’m Mykel Daring, nice to meet you!”

“Which room are you in?” Randal asked, while looking at a list of names on a clipboard. “Is your name spelled M-Y-K-E-L?”

“Yes it is.”

“Oh yes, you are in 515 with Clinton Grogan from Hermes,” Randal read off of the sheet of names and rooms, he then looked up at Mykel and said, “There is quite a difference in you two guys height. Clint plays on the Wolves basketball team.”

“Oh great! An athlete. The athletes always hated me in Lemming,” Mykel groused, as the girl, behind the table, wrote his name, with a red ink marker, on an index card, before she stood up and pinned it to his shirt with a tiny safety pin.

“Here is your name tag, so people will be able to learn you name,” she chirped.

“Don’t worry, Mykel,” Randal reassured Mykel. “Clint is a great guy. He lived on this same floor last semester. Come on, let’s go down and meet him.” Randal started escorting Mykel down the hall to his new dorm room.

Several doors were open as other students were either moving in or were already settled in and just hanging out on a Sunday afternoon. The air was filled with the sounds from their radios, record players and televisions, all battling for the attention of the people walking down the hallway. From one room, James Brown was shouting to the world that he felt good, while in another room Buck Owens was complaining because he had a tiger by the tail and further up the hall, Bob Dylan was trying coaxing a girl to dump her boyfriend, that she kept in a box because he had bloodhounds that kneel and belonged to the religion of the Little Tin Women, and crawl out her window.

Amid the music flowing through the hallway, there was the faint sound of futuristic electronic noises playing, while Gene Rayburn informed people that they were “Listening to Monitor on the NBC Radio network,” some boys cheering Jim Brown playing in the Pro-Bowl football game, and the Durango Kid riding to the rescue with his six-guns blazing.

“You don’t have to wear that name card if you don’t want to,” Randal whispered to Mykel. “Suzy is an elementary ed major and she turns everything into kindergarten.”

“That’s okay, I’ll wear it. I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s really cute,” Mykel said. “She looks like Mary Ann Mobley, that always plays Elvis’ girlfriend.”

“Well, before you get your hopes up, I should tell you she is my girlfriend,” Randal informed Mykel with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

“Relax, it’s okay,” Randal chuckled, as he and Randal arrived at 515. “At least, you kept your comments about her clean. You go on in and I’ll follow you in with the cart.”

Mykel walked in the door, which was propped open. He walked down the corridor, past a bathroom, a sink and small ice box. Once he was in the dorm room, he saw a lanky boy with short blonde hair, lying on one of the single beds and a tall, muscular, African-American boy sitting on the other bed. He got up from the bed, held out his hand to shake Mykel’s hand.

“Howdy, I’m Clint Grogan from Her-Miss, Missouri,” he spoke in a Huckleberry Hound voice, trying not to laugh. “My girlfriend’s name is Alice Chambers and I ride her all over our farm.” Randal began laughing, which Mykel thought was rude.

“Pleased to meet you…” Mykel said, shaking the hand of his new acquaintance. The blonde boy jumped off the bed and walked over to Mykel.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” said tall, blonde boy as he walked over and extended his hand for a shake. “I’m the real Clinton Grogan. I guess you are Mykel?”

“Yes, I’m Mykel Daring and I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Clarence Jefferson, but everyone calls me Slick,” announced the fellow Mykel shook hands with first. “I live down the hall. Clint and me are both on the Wolves Basketball team.”

“Slick gets in the newspaper more than I do,” Clint said. “Since I’m an academic probation, so I don’t get to play much.”

“Man, don’t worry,” Slick said. “There is always a chance we may have to work you in at the last minute. Do you play basketball, Mykel?”

“Are you kidding?” Mykel quipped. “I’m only five foot one and can’t make a basket to save my life.”

“Hey, best player I ever saw was only four foot ten,” Slick reassured Mykel. “Besides, we don’t care if your bad, just give us some practice.”

“Clarence, how are you and your new roommate making it?” Randal asked, as part of his duty as R. A.

“Henry has posted several rules for me to follow,” Slick rolled his eyes, as he told about his roommate.

“Well, let me say it has nothing to do with your race,” Randal explained. “He posted so many rules that his roommate last semester went home for Columbus Day and never returned.”

“Dang!” Slick said. “I don’t think it will get that bad. He does seem like a testy little guy though.”

“I need to get back to the welcome table,” Randal said. “If you boys need anything, I’m in Room 500.”

“Hey Randal, is anyone running against your dad in the election?” Clint asked, as Randal started to leave.

“Not yet,” Randal answered. “I’m sure the Republicans will find someone. They own Spring Valley. I’m still surprised Dad was elected last time.”

“Well, tell him good luck,” Clint said. With that, Randal left.

Clint pulled the cart into the room proper. “Slick, let’s help our new friend get settled.” They began working to get Mykel’s stuff situated in the room. Clint pulled a old, gray metal folding chair from underneath his bed and they put the TV it, since they didn’t have a TV stand. They put the record player and radio on Mykel’s desk.

When they were finished, Slick remarked, “This is going to be fine. Clint, why don’t we trade roommates?”

“No no,” Clint laughed. “You are stuck with Henry.”

“He had his radio on K-R-C-A right now,” Slick laughed. “That’s our entertainment.”

“So that is who was listening to Monitor, when we were walking down the hall,” Mykel laughed.

“Yeah, that’s like radio for old, white folks,” Slick laughed.

“I applied for an internship at that radio station, but never heard back from them,” Mykel told the guys. “I got a letter back from K-I-L-L for an internship. I meet with them next week about it.”

“That’s great! I never knew anyone who was on the radio,” Clint said.

“I’m not sure if I will be on the radio. It is more like a class. I’ll get a grade for it.”

The sound of loud voices came from the hallway. It was a commotion that was punctuated by screams, laughter, clapping and doors being pounded on.

“What the Heck is that?” Clint asked with alarm.

“Could be a fight?” Slick said.

“Let’s check it out!” Mykel exclaimed as he hurried down the entrance corridor to see what was going on in the hall. Clint and Slick followed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the infraction.

The three boys looked down the fifth floor hallway to see four smiling girls, walking side by side, clapping and singing with angelic voices at top volume, “We are roaming, roaming, roaming the halls, Making a happy noise! We are roaming, roaming, roaming the halls, Looking for cute boys!” When they came to a room with a door closed, they would bang on it with a majorette’s baton.

“I’ve only had dreams about stuff like this,” Mykel said to Clint and Slick with amazement as he watched the girls approaching their room. “Only the girls in my dreams were naked. Look, they are laughing and smiling!”

“Surely girls in Lemming laughed and smiled?” Clint questioned Mykel about his excitement about the girl’s demeanor.

“If they laughed, it was because some guy was beating me up,” he explained. “And when they smiled, it was stiff and unpleasant looking, like it hurt or something.”

As they got closer, their appearance became more defined. There was a small, thin girl with pixie cut, brown hair and squinty eyes, a chubby girl with blonde hair in pigtails, a girl with curly black hair in a bubble cut and a statuesque girl with a big smile, blue eyes and a sandy, blond bouffant flip hairdo.

“Do you think they will talk to us?” Mykel asked, as his asthma began to act up suddenly.

“I’m sure they will,” Clint chuckled. “Since we are standing out here in the hall looking stupid.”

The girls continued singing and even tried to skip, but it was rather awkward and the girl with pixie cut tripped and fell. They all four nearly fell to the floor laughing.

“This is why I love white, college girls,” Slick laughed. “They do stupid stuff like this!”

The girls stopped in front of the bewildered but anxious boys.

“Hello, we are the girls from room 420!” They announced in unison.

“I’m Kathy!” said the girl with the curly hair.

“I’m Grace!” ironically was the name of the girl who fell a few minutes earlier.

“I’m Debbie!” said the blonde girl with the pigtails, who looked more like she should be in middle school instead of college.

“I’m Sherry!” chirped the blonde with the bouffant flip, who was wearing a snug fitting Spring Valley State sweatshirt and even tighter, bright, red Capri pants.

“Since we want to get acquainted with other people in the dorm and our R. A, Phyllis had to go to her grand-father’s funeral, we are having a little party in our suite,” explained Kathy. “We are getting pizzas.”

“We also have Pepsi and that new soda pop, Mountain Dew, too!” Debbie boasted.

“There may be some other stuff to drink too,” Sherry whispered with a wink. “Just don’t tell your R. A.”

“Don’t worry, Randal goes to church on Sunday night with his girlfriend, Suzy,” Clint explained, as he looked down the hallway and noticed the table was gone from in front of the elevators.

“Her dad is a preacher at the Baptist church in Sucre. They’ve probably already left by now. That’s thirty minutes away.”

“That’s great! Nobody will find out,” Kathy said. “Aren’t you guys basketball players?”

“Yeah, I’m Clint Grogan and this is Slick Jefferson.”

“I’ll try to get my roommate to come, but he doesn’t seem like the party type,” Slick said.

“What’s your name?” Grace asked, as she tried to read the card. “It looks like Mee-Kell.”

“It’s pronounced Michael, like row your boat ashore.”

“Mee-kell?” Debbie laughed. “You have to excuse Grace. She’s not wearing her glasses because she knew we would be talking to boys.”

“Remember, the fun starts at 5 o’clock in Room 420,” Sherry chimed in. “We hope to see you there for the first big party of 1966!”

The girls left the boys behind, singing and clapping again on their way to the stairwell, where Grace walked into the door and they laughed and giggled about it, before disappearing.

“They seem nice,” Mykel observed. “But one of those girls was wearing an odd smelling peppermint perfume.”

“That’s not perfume, Mykel,” Slick said. “One of those girls had been drinking peppermint Schnapps. Boys, we have to go to their little party!”

Mykel Daring is a college professor and announcer for the NPR affiliate. He is about ready to retire. He receives a letter from a young man from Springville, Missouri, who visits sick children, dressed as Batman, in the local hospital. He then tells Mykel that he is the nephew of his freshman-year, college roommate, Clint Grogan. He asked Mykel to write him back and tell him about how, in the Spring of 1966, they dressed as Batman & Robin as a part of a class project. The young man tells Mykel that he never met his uncle, because Clint died in Vietnam.

Before he replies to the young man’s letter, Mykel reminisces with his wife about the semester that he and Clint were roommates. He also mentions his experience with his first real girlfriend (who may have invented hand sanitizer), his first radio job at a Top 40 station (K-I-L-L 1300 AM) and how they foiled the kidnapping a the mayor’s son, by two creepy villains called The Pachyderm & the Confederate Colonel.

My name is Jeff Boggs and i live in Springfield, Missouri. I am an aspiring writer. I have a B. S in Electronic Media and a B. A in English from Missouri State University. I am working on a novel entitled Dynamic Duo of the Ozarks. It is based (very loosely) on two true stories here in Springfield.

One is a story I stumbled onto in the microfilm editions of the Springfield newspapers from 1966. At the height of Batmania, two college students dressed up as Batman & Robin. They attempted to help both Springfield PD & Springfield Fire Department, who didn’t appreciate the help from this “Dynamic Duo of the Ozarks.” They wound up emceeing frat parties, dances & hootenannies.

The other story involves a local philanthropist & volunteer known as “the Springfield Batman,” because he visits children in the local hospitals dressed as Batman.

I will post some chapters here, as a sneak peak. I also have some interesting facts about 1966, that I have found with my research. Some of these articles, have been posted on another blog that I used to manage called “New Adventures of Desdinova the Super-Villain of the Ozarks.”

I hope people enjoy this blog about my Work-In-Progress.