[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

And she's watching him with those eyes. And she's loving him with that body, I just know it...
You know I wish that I had Jessie's Girl. Where can I find a woman like that?
Rick Springfield.

🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭

While I much preferred the superior tone of my exquisite Buffet Bb horn,
two school-owned clarinets were also available to me. While performing in the pit orchestra for school musicals, I sometimes switched to the larger A clarinet to make a solo in an odd key more manageable, or used the tiny, finicky Eb model, for a cleaner soprano range. Some players considered that cheating, but I framed it as being resourceful.

When Natasha proved to be an unsuitable choice, I selected a more appropriate instrument for my closing night performance...Tessa.

😖😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😖

9:00 AM.
Fifteen hours earlier...

Natasha and me, oh yes!
Gonna... Score!

Normally, stumbling over my long, thin limbs on the school bus stairs would have elicited a generous portion of well-deserved mockery. However, few seemed to notice, not with the whole marching band quivering in anticipation of our favorite event, a mere hour's drive away.

Every December since the park opened in 1955, Disneyland had invited us to play in their Christmas parade, and we had spent the previous week in a blitzkreig of rehearsal. Scheduled to march at noon and concluding by two pm, we were given passes, the freedom to run amok, and an admonishment to be seated on the buses no later than eleven-thirty pm.

Romance always filled those seven hours, and the Magic Kingdom lived up to its name when a few band couples sprouted like nerdy dandelions each year. I had resolved to hook up with a girl after the last parade of my high school years, and Natasha and I would go down in history as the greatest love story our band had ever known. If that were too ambitious, perhaps I would just make out with her...

Like most of my romantic schemes, a few canker sores showed on this one's face. However, my true goal of following a specific plan, made actually kissing Natasha a secondary consideration. Outcome Independence is what pickup gurus call that strategy nowadays, but to seventeen-year-old me, who knew nothing of such things, sticking with a five-point plan seemed far more achievable than seducing a girl.

Unfortunately, while my plans were mostly sound, the real problem was... me.

Nothing could be done about it, so I polished my chrome-plated heart, removed my crooked glasses, then myopically shuffled into battle.

👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓

Step one seemed reasonable. I merely needed to sit with Natasha on the bus. Her cymbalist friend Stacey occupied the seat I wanted, so I boldly stopped at Natasha's row. With a cheerful voice, I pointed, "Hi Stacey, I want to sit next to Natasha."

I waited while Stacey's obese maw gaped in disbelief, and Natasha laughed out loud. Her harsh voice annoyed me, especially when she mocked, but I could live with it. The depth of our budding love required few words.

Part of the plan was to power through any embarrassment, so I gestured at the seat, as un-spastically as I could. "How about it, Natasha?"

My voice cracked a bit on the last syllable. I had exhausted my cockiness, so if the girls didn't cooperate, I was done.

As she turned to me, Natasha's face twisted into the familiar look that said, "What's wrong with you?"

Then, to my surprise, she nudged Stacey, "Give us a minute."

With a smirk, I offered a hand up to Stacey, who recoiled in disgust.

Fuck you, fat bitch. You'll always be the hot girl's ugly friend. I wouldn't fuck you with Steve's suppurating, smegma coated... Damnit, be nice.

"Thanks Stacey. Hey, that's a cool Tom Petty shirt."

Didn't know they made them in XXXL...

She met my kind words with her bitterest frown, but then complied.
Not being able to help myself, I insulted Stacey by brushing off the seat before clumsily plopping myself down.

Ok! On to step two...

After taking a minute to prepare myself, I said, "I'm Ray."

It was the first time I had ever spoken to my soulmate.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Ray, I've been in band with you this whole semester. I know who you are. What do you want?"

My God, she is so hot. How did she even stretch that tiny t-shirt over those tits? Such a complex shape to her lips, and those eyes, wow. I never noticed they crossed a bit. Shit, sweat just ran down my side. Maybe this isn't a good idea...

I hesitated. Natasha's slim yet very curvy figure, Farrah Fawcett-styled blonde hair, and piercing, deep blue eyes made me forget my objective for a second. Not for the first time, I observed how her big, rounded nose somehow mimicked the shape of her full, gravity-defying breasts, and her equally mouth-watering, perfectly molded ass.

C'mon dork, you practiced in the mirror this morning. Just substitute Natasha's name for Kim's...

It had been only a few minutes before getting on the bus, that I picked outrageously sexy Natasha over breathtaking Kim to be my true love.

"Uhh, Natasha? After the parade, let's hang out together."

She put her hand up, "You want to hang out with me and my friends?"

Natasha's response seemed to be a clever brush off, and part of me admired how she handled it. However, giving up was not an option at that point.

"No, Natasha. Just me and you."

I blindly reached for her hand as I said it, but she pulled away, and my fingers rested on her right breast for a moment. Then stayed an extra second, and lightly fondled, because... why not?

We both looked at each other in shock, then Natasha shook her head, "Ray, do you always grope girls when you ask them out?"

All I could do was stammer, "Ohh, Natasha, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that, I was just...um, trying to, you know... your hand."

She adjusted her well pawed breast.
"I know, it was an accident, but no guy has ever grabbed my boobs ten seconds after meeting me. You're very unusual."

I get that a lot...

I offered her an innocent shrug, but Natasha frowned. "Maybe. Be at the lagoon around five, and I might hang out with you."

🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀

Having completed step two, I stood up, then gestured for Stacey to reclaim her seat. I looked around the bus, and irritation shot through me when I found the only empty seat next to my personal scapegoat Steve. He attracted my hostility the same way lice are drawn to pubic hair, and being civil to him exhausted me. I decided to give Steve a chance to earn my venom, and as expected, I didn't have to wait long for his whining to assault my ears, "Hey, what are you doing with Natasha? Isn't she out of your league, Ray?"

He never disappoints me...

"Shut up, maggot. At least I'm trying. You're so pathetic, the way you just stared at Annette for two years without doing anything."

Steve winced, as it still rubbed his sore spot. The previous April, in an act of simultaneous kindness and cruelty, I had made cute, snobbish valedictorian oboist Annette aware of Steve's longing for her. Just as I had anticipated, Annette had replied plainly, "Ray, please tell Steve I'm not interested. At all."

I had reported, "Steve, you can move on now, because Annette doesn't want to have anything to do with you."

His disgraceful blubbering reaction, "You ruined my life," had given gave me an odd sense of satisfaction that I still savored months later.

Annoyed, I lectured, "Steve, Natasha's going to meet me later and we're going to fool around."

My false confidence overwhelmed the air like Steve's halitosis.

I had little hope of anything happening with Natasha, but was unwilling to give Steve any victory. Still, a little scolding voice reached out from my bile-spewing Despair compartment, and tickled my happy moment with, "Dork. You failed again. No pretty girl wants to be with you. The best you are ever going to have is ugly drunk girls like Jackie and Kelly. Give it up!"

Finding the plastic reed case in my band jacket, I lightly chewed the thick end while trying to flee the rising melancholy tide.

Fuck you Despair! I WILL get there someday! And if not, well... I had a really good time with Jackie and Kelly. So there!

5:00 PM
💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

That's really sweet. Those two look like they are in love. And such a wonderful setting, the way the purple and red lights shine through the waterfall in the twilight. When Natasha shows up to meet me, maybe I'll kiss her over there, just like that couple in the band jackets. Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that...

Three hours after we were let loose in the park, I spotted Natasha in full lip-lock with the band director's son Jason, near the Thunder Mountain waterfall. Dusk had fallen, and the multicolored lights shining through the cascade made such a lovely romantic backdrop that I almost felt happy for them. I couldn't fault Natasha, as her choice made sense. For a band guy, snare drummer Jason was fairly athletic, very good looking, and had a natural charm.

Nonetheless, it was clear I had been her Plan B, or more likely, Plan D. Recently single Natasha had been a wellspring of school boys' fantasies, and some very high quality guys had been nosing around, hoping for a whiff of her estrus. I was not immune, as she had headlined a messy double feature in my private theater earlier in the morning.

Seething with rank disappointment, I searched for a silver lining on the sulfurous cloud, and cracked a lecherous grin.

I got to second base with Natasha!

⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️

5:30 PM

Fucking Jason, he already has a girlfriend. What an unfaithful asshole, just like his father. When I finally get a girlfriend, I'll never cheat on her...

Staring at Natasha and Jason making out accomplished nothing, so I slunk off like the loser I was. Hopefully, I could find the friends I had abandoned, and hang out with them. Disneyland was supposed to be The Happiest Place on Earth, but my bitterness carried enough weight to foul the mood of everyone around me, if anyone cared. Which they didn't, for despite being one of the most musically accomplished seniors in our high school band, few of my classmates seemed to really want me around.

Nonetheless, I did have some friends who sometimes liked to hang out with me, and I tried to add value to those relationships, mostly by being the guy who took things farther than anyone else. The occasional humiliation which accompanied that role seldom left it's murky stain on me.

My endeavors with girls went much the same way, a personal parade of failures, with one notable exception. The prior August, my two fast-food coworker friends Jackie and Kelly had intensely made out with me on a magical afternoon at a local waterfall. Though I remained a virgin, releases were had by all three of us, and the only things that kept me from taking pride in it, were the girls' being extremely drunk.

And extremely unattractive...

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

After thirty minutes of searching, I rejoined my friends, a mix of five senior and junior boys, accompanied by two girlfriends, waiting in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Surprisingly, I respected The Code, and never hit on those girls, even though they were both cute and fun.
Even a broken clock is correct twice a day...

⚓️⚓️⚓️⚓️⚓️⚓️⚓️⚓️

Halfway through the popular, watery attraction, a sense of cosmic appropriateness obscured my gangrenous mood, when we joined the reveling animatronic sailors by passing around the small bottle of rum I had brought. My original plan had been to share it with Natasha, get her drunk, then have my way with her, because...

I'm a sociopath! Fuck yeah!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

I wasn't really a sociopath. Well, maybe a little bit. Mr. Browning, the school counselor, had recently evaluated me, and cautiously revealed that while basically normal, I had a few 'borderline sociopathic' markers.

When he had explained how my conscience was, "Not well developed," and that I possessed, "Almost no empathy," it made some things clear, and I knew what to look out for. His advice had boiled down to, "Ray, when you feel like being mean, just wait. It will pass. But when you feel like being nice, do it immediately, before the feeling goes away."

Following that rule had been relatively easy, as my cruelty and kindness came from the same place, so I felt the same pleasure from both. But then, he had added, "Ray, don't just do whatever you want, or what you can get away with."

I had to work on that one...

His last suggestion, "Try to consider how others will view your words and actions," literally made my head hurt when I tried. Perhaps I would attempt it again when I got older.

Like thirty years older.

🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷🤷

After the always disappointingly dull ride, two more gulps lured a Bacardi Buzz into my frayed net, and like gas bubbles in a fetid swamp, a foul idea popped in my mind. My last Disneyland trip could still salvaged with my own Plan B.

Kelly and Jackie had been happy to be an afternoon's romantic partners back in August, so I just had to lower my standards for the night, and the rum was more than willing to lend a hand.

Hmm. Who's the homeliest girl I can picture myself drunkenly making out with?

Stacey? No, I didn't bring enough rum. How about Tessa?

Ohh, good choice!

🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻🥷🏻

Tessa existed entirely without notice from most boys, but her quiet, friendly nature, and general goofiness made her a fun addition to a popular trio of attractive band girls. Unlike many plain girls, Tessa didn't seem bitter about it, and a pleasant personality kept her from fading into total obscurity.

Her locker neighbored mine, so I had tossed her a perfunctory greeting every morning, and even better, had once unintentionally flirted with the short, chubby, freshman flautist. In November, I had complimented, "Tessa, your hair is nice," just because I felt like being kind, as Mr. Browning had advised. Tessa's shy blush and smile had completed my contact with her, so I guessed she liked me. Or at least, didn't find me repulsive, which was good enough. In a pinch, I could put up with a girl's bad attitude, but Tessa's warmth put her far ahead of any other candidate.

Tessa. That'll work...

🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏

A slimy, festering obstacle loomed over my plan, like the angry forehead pimple I had squeezed the day before. Jackie and Kelly had been the instigators of our intimate afternoon tryst, with the girls literally driving the action. Tessa's very young age and probable lack of experience, meant that I would have to guide her into making out. In that area, my level of incompetence set new records. I could barely even seduce my imaginary girls, during the once-per-day solo activity practiced by all male teenagers. Actually, once a day was a bare minimum, as adolescent boys literally performed it in their sleep...

🧴🧴🧴🧴🧴🧴🧴🧴🧴🧴

The solution still burned my throat and watered my bespectacled eyes. Al Cohol would be my trusty wingman, as he had been for countless millions of men throughout history, and I was glad to have freed my pint sized partner from the grocery store shelf earlier in the week. Packing a hefty 151 proof punch, the screw-topped sidekick was hardly fulfilling his destiny while collecting dust, so my shoplifting could be viewed as an act of liberation, if one was short of conscience.

I'm a heroic sociopath!

🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️🦸‍♂️

Thanks for reading, don't forget to vote and comment!