Last Thursday, I laid the foundation for this epic tale of mooning cars in northwest Ohio. If you didn't read it yet, you should be ashamed of yourself (click here). This is going to be long so let's stop wasting time.
I am almost 100% positive that this tale concludes on New Year's Eve 1994 and into 1995 because I'm pretty sure that we bragged about being the first people in the back of a cop car in the new year. But let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet. So Rex, Damman, Rune, Buke, and myself plan on staying out at Hoffman's for the evening to play cards, make prank phone calls, play pool, not talk to girls, watch bowl games the next day, and, of course, moon cars. We all knew that as soon as Hoffman's parents went to bed, we were going out to Ass Intersection. It didn't need to be spoken, it was just known. The anticipation was killing us all while we waited for his parents to go to bed.
First things first, I'm fairly certain that this was our only attempt at a "Winter Moon", which is definitely not part of the gay Twilight saga. Mooning is most definitely not a cold weather sport. And another problem on this night was that there just aren't a lot of motorists out after midnight on December 31st. If I remember right, we were out there for 2-3 hours and only saw a handful of cars. We had modified our mooning methods since there were no beans to hide in and took shelter inside of a small forest (or "woods") just down the road. It wasn't going to effect us negatively and may have even been funnier since drivers would see kids coming out of the woods with their asses out and then disappearing back inside. It made us more ghost-like.
Here is the one thing that I forgot to mention last week. You can't just moon any car. What if it's a county sheriff driving by or Hoffman's neighbors. So we mooned based on "feel". If you saw a car coming and anyone said "I don't have a good feeling about this one", then you "passed on the ass" and waited for the next car. Fortunately, on that New Year's Eve, we passed on the right car. Or so it would seem. A truck came by at one point but we refrained from exposing ourselves to it. Someone had a bad feeling. But the driver saw us in the woods anyway. And I believe that that driver owned the wooded land that we were squatting in. Mr. Dickmander (real name...seriously) did what any normal person would do when he saw trespassers on his property and he called the police.
About twenty or so minutes later, two pairs of headlights close in on the woods in which we are dicking around and waiting for the next victim of ours. Since there were two cars, that was automatically going to be a no go for us. As they crept closer to the tree line, we noticed that both cars were the law. Oh shit, we're fucked. The 6 of us immediately go into hiding behind trees and whatnot praying that these fucking pigs just leave. They did not. Now we were probably only about 25 yards into the woods so it would not take very long to find us. They got their spotlights out and started walking toward us. I panicked. They were never going to take me alive! I will never go to the big house! I'M NOT GOING TO BE SOME GUY'S GIRLFRIEND!
I ran. I ran my ass off. I felt like Dr. Richard fucking Kimble! Dead sprinting through 100-120 more yards of heavily wooded area, it was a miracle that I didn't fall. Seriously, I could NEVER do that again without falling. I made it out the back of the woods only to discover that no one followed me. Shit. I was a one man gang. The other guys had stayed in their hiding spots and were going to be easy pickings for the cops. Fucking pussies. But fuck that, they were on their own now. I escaped and now I must live my life like a free man while they get their asses pounded in a maximum-security state pen eventhough they are only 14-15 years old and did nothing wrong. I decided that I needed to keep moving so I hoofed it back to Hoffman's house. I look out a window toward the woods and I can see my 5 boys getting harrassed by "the man" and it appeared that Dickmander showed back up for some reason. They were all getting into the cop cars. Oh fuck, THEY ARE GOING TO JAIL! How am I possibly going to explain this? Or more accurately, how am I going to lie my way out of this one? The cop cars passed Ass Intersection and pulled into Hoffman's driveway. Fuck, I'm fuckity fucked. So I head back down to the basement and act like I've been sleeping the whole time eventhough I'm drenched with sweat, piss, and fear.
I hear the door open upstairs and then the basement door and then the footsteps on the stairs. It sounds like 100 people are coming down for a big showdown. Here they come alongside two sheriffs and Hoffman's half-asleep and fully confused parents. This did not look good at all. In what will always remain the worst acting of my life (an I am usually proud of my amateur acting skills), I roll over on the couch and say:
"Wh-wh-what's going on"?
It was the most pathetic attempt at lying I've ever made. Apparently, old man Dickmander thought that we were outside having a snowball fight on his property so that is why he called the police. That is obviously not true but it's much easier to digest than "we were showing our butts to strangers!" After I took off through the woods, it took the sheriffs about two minutes to corral everyone else. They were sitting ducks and also pussies for not running with me. One of the first questions that the fuzz apparently asked was:
"You boys been drinkin'? (he points flashlight right in Damman's face) HOW 'BOUT YOU!!!"
Of course, we hadn't been but I like to think that the cop was smart enough to realize that Damman would be the kind of guy who, in the future, gets drunk and then gets hit by a car while jaywalking. Well played, cop. Next up in this amazing story, is the cop's interrogation of the Fucked Five.
Cop: What are you boys doing out here?
Five: I don't know.
Cop: How did you get out here?
Five: I don't know.
Cop: Who was that kid that went running through the woods?
Five: I don't know.
Now obviously I was not there for this, but I'm told that this is EXACTLY how it went down. Dickmander ended up recognizing Hoffman's dog and Hoffman and eventually they drove everyone back to his house where a future sexy blogger was just trying to get some damn sleep!
So everyone is in the basement but there is still one question that needs to be answered before these cops call it a night: where is the sixth kid? I guarantee that it was Buke who did this, but he told the cop that "the kid" was named (I'm changing the name up a bit, just know that he gave me an alias) "Gary Buchanan". Close to my real name, but not really. So the cop asks where the Buchanan kid is and I'm quite certain that he's talking about me. So I did the noble thing and I turned myself in as opposed to triggering a worldwide manhunt for the fugitive snowball-chucking mystery man with the ass of gold.
G$: "That's me."
Cop: "Why did you run?"
G$: "I don't know, I was scared."
This was very true and very stupid and very awesome but it seemed to be an OK excuse for the cop that came with some stupid warning like, in the future, always stop when a policeman asks you to. Whatever, you fag. Go back to Mayberry. If I turn myself in, you aren't really doing your job, are you, asshole?
So they are getting ready to leave without any sort of issues or reprimands. Basically, they just chauferred 5 of us down the street and back home. The sheriff does one last pass of the names just to make sure that everything is accurate. "Brian Barlow", he says. Since I was not there, I have no idea who the hell this is supposed to be until I realize that Buke fake-named the cops. I have a feeling that Hoffman's mom shot him a look and he fessed up as well. This did not sit well with the cops considering that they had already been fake-named earlier.
"I OUGHT TO ARREST YOU FOR FALSE IDENTIFICATION!!!", the pig screamed at Buke. In hindsight, this was tantrum was absolutely hilarious. But in the end, they just left.
It was pretty damn late anyway. Hoffman's parents didn't really care at all since no one really knew for sure what we were doing out there. We just stuck to the snowball story. The night was over and, in essence, our career as professional mooners was over, too. But if I learned one thing from Young Guns II, it's that if you want to go out, go out big. And I think that that was the way to go. A couple good moons, the cops showing up, a guy named Dickmander, a fugitive fleeing on foot, tons of lies to the authority, fake names, and then a full day of bowl games the next day.
In conclusion, these two posts have inspired me greatly. I'm back to mooning on a nightly basis now. Just ask She$ and the dog. It feels good to have my ass on display again. It's been too long.