Coyotes howled enthusiastically late last night. Gunshots echoed through the forest this afternoon. I doubt if the two things were related.
My usual foul mood is compounded by a sinus headache and an ear infection. I feel ear blockage and hear echoes. It's kinda like Black Sabbath is performing in my cochlea.
Don't panic. The cochlea is nothing sexual.
Speaking of sexual - - I was scanning some old photos into my computer last night. And I found this one photo that I had completely forgotten about, which is connected with a story that I had also completely forgotten about: my first kiss.
Me on the left, Lynette on the right, with a very reasonable distance between us. This is a crappy photo with bad lighting, and some mysterious streaks on the film.
I was seven years old and we lived in Covina, California.
Lynette was around my age and lived across the street. We were just casual friends and I hardly remember her. Except for the kiss.
It happened in my back yard. In all fairness, Lynette was completely innocent. I was the aggressor, the perpetrator, the wolf in pursuit. But, for the life of me, I don't recall exactly what inspired my rash act of unbridled ardor.
I suddenly planted a big smooch right on Lynette's unsuspecting mouth, and I did it with admirable enthusiasm for an inexperienced seven-year-old.
My moment of bliss was of very short duration. As luck would have it, my mother and a neighbor lady were looking out their respective windows and saw me commit the blasphemous deed.
All hell broke loose in our reasonably quiet and conservative neighborhood, and I was soundly chastised and nearly banished and forced to wear a scarlet letter.
It's improper and inappropriate! my mother said.
It's immoral and unacceptable! a concerned neighbor lady chimed in.
You could get a disease from kissing someone! another do-gooder warned me.
I couldn't imagine what disease I'd contract from a seven-year-old virgin, but that was beside the realm of my eternal damnation.
Anyway, the ugly incident put a major damper on my sexual proclivities for many years to come. Kissing was one more thing added to a tediously long list of unconscionable sins.
We moved to Pomona when I was eight, and the girl across the street from us there was named Carolyn. Carolyn was two years older than me and very wise in wicked ways. She made Lynette look like a Romper Room amateur.
But this post is getting long, so I'll leave Carolyn for another time.
So, Jon, when was the first time you ever kissed a boy?
You nasty people have minds lower than the bottom of the trash cans in the Edit Room of the National Enquirer.
If you really must know, I was a sweet and totally innocent nineteen-year-old. The lucky perpetrator was pushing thirty.
From there, I'll leave you hanging in agonizing suspense.....
I finally corrected the typos. I may not be perfect, but I'm damn near it.