jamie doom

We shall call him John R. John R. lived two doors from me my sophomore year in college. He was a little odd, and had bad breath, but I went out with his sister a couple of times, so I was always nice to him. One day we were talking about our lack of trouble with the police, and each of the people sitting there in my room admitted that no they had no criminal record or even a police station visit, well that is, except for John R.

“And I still wouldn’t have any police record if I hadn’t of dropped my chapstick,” said John R. And then he told us this story:

When John R. was about twelve or thirteen he played in his yard like a normal child. One game he loved to play was “hit the deck.” This is a game I played when I was growing up. It’s rather simple. You hang out in your front yard or in your friend’s front yard, and when a car drives past you hide from it.

John R. played this game enthusiastically. He found he was quite good at it. Even though he could never be positive he felt in his gut that the car passengers had no idea that John R. was hiding right there behind the lilac bush or in the drainage ditch. But you see, John R., despite having a really hot sister, was wired a little differently than the rest of us. He was (and probably still is) a risk taker. So he upped the stakes.

He took off all his clothes and hid in his front yard naked from passing cars. You see, if people in a car see you when you play the game with your clothes on, so what? Growing up whenever I played it, that was always the big let down. My next door neighbor would pull into his drive-way, get out of the car, and say, “Hey, Jamie.” Embarrassed, I would emerge from my pile of leaves or carefully dug tunnel and go inside feeling empty. There was no risk. John R. created a risk.

He played naked. But soon like all games, this too became too easy. You see, John R. was great at hiding from people in cars and from pedestrians as well. So he raised the stakes and began hiding accross the street in his neighbor’s yard. Weeks went by. He felt invisible. Nobody ever spotted the naked pre-teen hiding accross the street from his house.

Young John R. began to feel more and more powerful as he ventured further and further away from his house sans clothes. The real silliness of this game of course is that nobody is really ever looking for a naked boy while they are riding in the car. Soon, John R. found himself spending most of his time several miles away from his house hiding from cars and pedestrians in the buff.

And then one day of course, somebody saw John R. Let me say that I for one am glad that somebody finally saw him. Otherwise we are only left to guess what might have become of John R. He may now be hiding naked entire states, nay continents, away from his house.. This person did what a normal person might do if they saw a naked boy hiding on the side of the highway, they tried to feed him peanuts and have their picture taken with him. Oh, I’m just kidding. They called the police.

The police came; and because they were the police, they were able to spot the naked, hiding boy. John R. had become quick, stealthy and bold during the preceding nude months, and he used these powers to try to escape the police. But they were gaining on him, and burst into a full out sprint. And that is when he dropped his chapstick.

You see, fair reader, though John R. didn’t mind being out of the house without any clothes he never could stand the idea of his lips getting chapped. And since John R. had no pockets he simply kept his chapstick clinched tightly between his buttocks. A smart place to keep them…if you are crazy and don’t want to just carry your chapstick. And John R. thought maybe that the police officers would be able to find him if they had his chapstick. I think maybe he was paranoid. So he went back to find it and stick it back up his arse, but the police had probably seen the chapstick drop out of the naked boy. And they were waiting for him. His parents had to pick him up at the police station. He got in trouble and had to find other ways to entertain himself.
I never borrowed John R.’s chapstick or spoke to any member of his family after that.

As you were.