It’s prom season and being the dork I am, the only person available that will go with me is another cast off from the student population. Her name is Louise Johnson. To most people she’s known as ‘Looney Louise’. She wears clothes that don’t fit; hair designs not yet invented by man, and is the biggest buffoon in the class. I can’t decide to ask her or just go stag. Going alone will solidify my status as the biggest loser in the school while going with her simply ties us with that honor.

Still, she’s got a nice rack…

“Ralph Junior, finish cleaning the garage, your mom wants this done before she gets home!”

“Okay, Pop.”

What a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon, cleaning up my parents crap in their garage. Good thing I’m almost done so I can go back into the house and do nothing tonight. A social life requires friends which I’m a little short in supply right now.

“Hey, Junior, got any plans tonight?”

“No, Pop.”

“Why don’t you call that Louise girl you’re taking to the prom? Go out and have some fun. I’ll give you fifty bucks and you can use my car.”

“I haven’t asked her to the prom and she’s not my girlfriend, Pop.”

He walked back to the house shaking his head. I knew he meant well, but he just doesn’t understand what its like to be me. Yeah, I could call her and I’m sure her social calendar was just as wide open as mine, but I’m not sure I want to spend an evening worrying about what she’s going to do next.

Pop came and went a few times to make sure I wasn’t throwing away anything of any value. God forbid I should get rid of an old tennis racket with half the strings missing.

I finished repacking their treasure (crap) into some boxes and started reloading a shelf on the far wall. As I was about to lift the last box up, I noticed an old marble composition book laying on it. It must have been under the crap I pulled off and chucked earlier though I could swear the shelf was empty when I pulled the boxes down before. I opened it and saw that the writing in it was my Pop’s. Flipping through the pages, I stopped at the word ‘boobs’.

Quickly I finished the garage, stuck the book in my pants waist, covered it with my shirt and headed back to the house to take a shower. Pop stopped me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Here’s a late birthday present for you, Junior,” he said, holding out a small wrapped package. “Turning eighteen is a milestone in life. I want you have these.”

It was a pack of Trojans; lubricated, ribbed, and spermicidal.

“Ah, thanks Pop, but I’m not sure I’m going to need these anytime soon.”

“You never know, son. Come on, give the girl a call.”

I sighed. “Pop, you don’t know what you’re asking me to do. She’s a walking disaster. She’s so bad they call her Looney Louise. Now do you understand?”

“Do you like the girl?”

“I don’t know. I’ve talked to her a few times. She seems okay, but she does dumb things. She does have a nice set, though,” I said, holding my hands out in front of me for effect.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Pop replied with a grin on his face.

I headed to my room and put the book under my pillow.

After getting a shower and changing, I went down to raid the fridge. The house seemed quiet. “Pop?” There was no answer. “Pop?” I shouted out the window. His car was gone. I grabbed a soda and a box of leftover KFC and headed back to my room.

I flopped down on the bed and opened the book. The first few pages were simply notes or doodles. On the fifth page there was a heading.

“Sunday, December 15, 1974.”

That was almost thirty years ago. I knew Pop was almost fifty, so he must’ve been close to my age when he wrote this.

-“I’m writing this down so I’ll never forget the events of the last few days (as if that’s actually possible). One thing’s for sure; I’m not the same person I was before this all started. The events began two days ago on Friday the 13th…”

Pop never really talked about his past. Once and a while he’d tell a story about this or that, but mostly they were stories within the last twenty years or so.

I turned the page and his story began…

* * *

I was sitting in my living room watching ‘Second City TV’ on an old black and white as another Friday night was going to waste with nothing to do. I just can’t believe my crappy luck when it comes to girls. I’m nineteen years old with my own apartment and a good paying job. I’d been in that apartment for seven months and not one female has set foot in the place to visit me with the exception of my Mother.

I’ve had a few dates here and there, but nothing that went far enough to suggest a little fun back at my place before they went home. I’m not bad looking. I have an average build and height, blond hair and green eyes. I have a decent sense of humor and like going out as much as anyone else. I suppose the problem is that I’m looking for a girlfriend. They can sense it the moment you meet them and it places them on the defensive.

I remember looking at my watch and realizing that my friend Jim would be by soon. Usually he dropped in on Fridays around that time either with a girl or on his way out looking for one. Sometimes I would go with him, but it usually meant holding up in a bar until closing time, talking about how great it would be to meet some girls. Not that there were any in those places.

If he had a girl with him, he usually asked me to find somewhere to go for a few hours. I couldn’t get any girls in the place but he could. What a guy. Sure enough, there was a knock at the door.

I took a peek through the peephole and could see it was Jim and he had a guest. I didn’t feel like bailing out of my home that night. I considered playing dead. Jim knocked again.

“Ralph, open up. It’s me. Someone here wants to see you,” he shouted through the door.

“Really?” I mumbled, as I peeked through the hole again. I could see Jim and the girl, but I could also see the slightest bit of someone else off to the side. “Oh, great, a blind date,” I thought. The last one Jim set me up on forgot to wash herself sometime that week. Combing her hair would have been a new experience for her, and the last time I checked, there were seven holes in a persons’ head, not eight.

I could have just said I was sick.

I could have told them I had a girl in the place too, but the laughter coming from the other side of the door might have disturbed my neighbors. Who am I kidding? They would have been laughing right along with them.

I opened the door and my friend smiled back at me.

“Hey, there you are! Taking a nap or something?” asked Jim, goofing around.


“This is Kelly,” he said, pointing briefly at a cute brunette.

I nodded in her direction and she giggled a little.

“I’m sure you remember this one,” Jim said, pointing off to the side invisible from the peephole.

She’s my height with blue eyes and wild short blonde hair. There were too many teeth and gums showing when she smiled and there was a bit of a snort when she giggled. She wore an oversized sweater with sleeves that fell a foot below her hands and flapped around as she waved at me. Her jeans were too long for her and were frayed from dragging on the ground. Her big toe was sticking out from an old sneaker and wiggled with a life of its own.

“Hi Ralph!” she said, with a giggle and snort.

It had been three years since I’d seen her. I’d like to think we were an item at the time, but the reality was that we were good friends and not much more. Even with that relationship, I was closer to her than any other girl in my life. She’s an amazing and interesting person. She has the ability to perk you up with that never fading smile and giggle. When things got dull, she livened things up with a joke, pratt fall, or some off the wall stunt. Her parents moved cross-country when we were still in tenth grade. That hurt. I didn’t realize just how much I relied on her being around. We exchanged a few letters, but I hadn’t heard from her for over a year.

She wiped her nose with her flapping sweater sleeve and snorted.

Nope, she hadn’t changed a bit.

I felt flushed. My heart was racing with joy and excitement. Ditzy Donna was back in town!

* * *

I closed the book.

Ditzy Donna? My Mother was known as Ditzy Donna? I always thought she acted like she had too much caffeine. I went back to reading…

* * *

“Oh my God,” was all I managed to say before she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me, moist sleeve and all.

“Okay then,” said Jim, as he and his date passed us and entered my apartment, closing the door.

As she held me tight, I could feel her shaking. At first I thought she was cold, and then I thought she was crying. Then she snorted.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I think Jim just locked you out.” Giggle. Snort.

I tugged on the door and sure enough, Jim had turned the dead bolt. I patted my pocket in vain knowing my keys were right inside the door on a hook. I checked my back pocket and found that I didn’t have my wallet either.

“Ah man,” I said, knocking on my own door.

“Come on, don’t worry about them. Let’s go out,” she said pulling me to the building door.

“I left my wallet inside,” I replied.

She blew raspberries at me. “Don’t worry about it, my treat,” she said, as I wiped the raspberry remnants off my face.

“Where are we going?” I asked, clueless.

“I don’t know,” she replied pulling me out to the parking lot.

“Did you drive here?”

“Nope,” she said, dragging me out to the street. A car came close and Donna squinted, looking at the driver. “Nope.” Another one closed in and said, “That’ll do.” With that she pulled her shirt and sweater up and flashed the driver. There couldn’t have been more than a second before the driver’s foot went from the gas to the brake and the car made a grand skid to a halt. The front passenger side door flung open and Donna jumped in. “Come on!” she said as she motioned with flapping sleeves. I got in next to her. “Thanks,” she said to the driver.

“Shit,” he replied. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Sorry,” she said, flashing him again. “Where’re you going?”

“I was heading to work over on Route 1. Where do you want to go?”

“Hey Ralph, is the ‘All the Way House’ still open?” Donna asked while playing with the guy’s fuzzy dice.

“I think so.”

“Let’s go there. It’s on the way,” she said, giving the guy another peek at her boobs.

“How come I don’t get to see them?” I asked.

“You’re not driving.”


The ‘All the Way House’ was a burger and beer joint that seemed more like an old time tavern than an eatery. It was dimly lit with booths and tables as well as a counter with stools. It had an old jukebox that played equally old 45’s for a quarter or three for fifty cents. It offered the standard fare such as hotdogs and various types of burgers served with a basket of French fries. What set this eatery apart from the others was its famous ‘All the Way’ sauce.

That special secret sauce was invented by some Irish guy around the turn of the century and intended as revenge on his neighbor. It consisted of hot dry mustards mixed with hot peppers, onions, mushrooms, and lots of vinegar. It was then slowly simmered for several days until it had the consistency of thick gray ketchup with lumps. It was perfect for on top of hotdogs or burgers, or a basket of fries. Of course, you could get your food any way you wanted it, with or without the sauce served on the side. But the truly brave would order their meal ‘All the Way’.

The brave and the assholes, that is.

Donna was busy thanking the driver by letting him cop a feel as I entered the House. It was just the same as it was the last time I had been in it, about three years before. The Big Bopper was singing “Chantilly Lace” on the jukebox as I spotted one empty booth toward the back. The place was packed with Friday night kids either finishing with activities for the evening or just getting started. I made my way to the booth and sat at the far wall facing the door. Looking over the menu told me nothing had changed except for the prices. There was a whoosh of air and suddenly Donna was seated across from me. Her sweater was in disarray and her hair was even more out of whack than usual.

“Did the guy leave?” I asked, looking for her eyes through the blonde bangs.

“Yeah, he went away happy,” she replied, pulling her sleeves up, finally revealing her hands. They were not graceful or delicate, but they fit her to a tee.

“I’m not sure I want to know what that means.”

“Yep, best not to ask,” she replied, eyeing up the menu.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been in here since the last time we were here together,” I said, paging through the play list on the control box in the booth.

Donna stared at her menu a minute and then a frown came over her face. I knew she was trying to remember the night in question. It bothered me that she didn’t since it was kind of a memorable night. Well, to her we were just friends.

“Donna!” shouted a large woman who apparently was our waitress. I say apparently because she wore a black dress with white lace, a small black lace bonnet, an equally black apron and up to a second ago, a ‘Fuck you and the horse you rode in on’ look.

“Peggy!” shouted Donna, as she leapt to her feet and into the extremely large woman with equally large breasts. I remembered her from the last time we were there.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you. How are doing, baby?” Peggy asked, squeezing Donna for all she was worth.

“Great! How’s the kids?” asked Donna, trying to breath in Peggy’s grasp.

“Hell raisers!” she replied, letting Donna loose.

“Yeah, well, six boys will do that,” giggled Donna, looking back at me and winking.

“Eight,” fired back Peg.

“No shit,” snorted Donna.

“Yep. The last one was born before the water broke!”

I shuddered. Donna laughed, snorted, and dropped back into her seat. I looked up at Peg.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

Actually, I was looking at her breasts. They were huge.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“Baby, what can I get you?” Peg asked Donna.

“Just a cola right now, I’m still looking.”

“Okay,” said ‘Big Peg’ as she turned and walked away, ignoring me.

“I’d like a…” I started to say, and then cleared my throat as it became obvious that I was being tuned out.

Donna folded her menu and set it down, looking at me and only me. “So Ralph, what’s going on with you?”

I told her everything. Good grades in high school, great job, and moving into the apartment. I also told her that things were still a bit rough on the girlfriend front. “How about you?”

The answer was as convoluted and strange as she could be at times. All I really heard was “…no boyfriend.” That perked me up.

“Here’s your soda sweetie,” said Peg as she dropped a plastic cup on the table and moved along.

“Thanks.” Snort. “So what are you going to have?”

“I’m not all that sure I’m going to get a chance to order,” I said, watching Big Peg move around the room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your order in,” Donna replied while tapping on the tabletop.

From across the room Peg shouted, “One cow patty extra burnt…” and then paused as she filled her lungs and bellowed, “…ALL THE WAY!”

The guy behind the counter shouted, “All the way!”

The guy cutting the onions yelled, “All the way!”

The cook in the bathroom hollered, “All the way!”

“I hope he washes his hands,” I said to Donna, as she started cracking up and soda bubbled out of her nose. I pulled the napkin dispenser over for her, but she’d already wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Well, you may not remember the last time we were here, but I do and I sure hope Peg doesn’t.”

“Oh! Right! I remember now,” she said and started laughing all over again.

That night, Donna and some friends of ours ate at the “All the Way House”. As the evening ended, Donna talked the others into leaving one by one until the only one left was me. When I realized they weren’t coming back I knew I was in trouble. The bill was $26.00 and all I had on me was $10.00. $26.00 is a large amount of money for someone making $1.80 an hour. What I remember the most about that evening was trying to sneak out myself and getting caught by Big Peg. It wasn’t my finest moment.

“I doubt she remembers that,” said Donna as she smiled toward Peg and flapped at her.

“One foot long at table 3…ALL THE WAY!”

“All the way!”

“All the way!”

“All the way!” (Flush)

“You paid her that night, didn’t you?” Donna asked, sipping her cola.

“All I had was ten bucks but the bill was twenty six. She made me clean the urinals in the men’s room until midnight with my underwear.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” stated Donna as she waved at Peg to let her know we were ready.

“Yeah well, she kept coming in and pulling up her skirt and pissing all over the walls and the urinals,” I said, shuddering at the vision still crystal clear in my mind. “She has this huge clit that looks like a small…”

“No, she didn’t,” said Donna, shaking her head as Peg arrived at the table.

“What would you like, sweetie?” she asked Donna.

“Let Ralph go first,” she said, nodding in my direction.

Big Peg turned towards me facing the back wall and in a quick but unseen motion other than to me, pulled her skirt up. Her large clit was even bigger than I remembered it. “You better have brought an extra pair of ‘Fruit of the Looms’ if you can’t pay the bill tonight, Dickhead,” and let the skirt drop.

She remembered me. She seemed just as warm and sociable as before.

I cleared my throat and opened my mouth, but nothing managed to come out.

Big Peg turned toward Donna and asked, “What can I get you?”

Donna pointed back to me.

“What do you want?” Big Peg huffed at me.

“I want a burger with lettuce and tomato and a side of fries,” I finally got out.

“How do you want that burger?” she asked.

They only used ground sirloin at the ‘House’ so you could have it done the way you liked it. “Medium rare,” I replied, feeling a little more in control. Being able to decide how one’s burger is done helps one in regaining one’s control.

“Uh-huh.” She turned toward Donna. “What would you like, honey?”

“I’d like a ‘Kibbles and Bits’ and a side order of ‘Fire Fries’.”

“Oh shit,” I whispered to myself.

One thing you need to understand about the secret sauce is that it is a bit on the hot side. Actually it was hot, bitter, hot, sweet, hot, pungent, hot, with a little hot left over. Very few people actually developed a taste for that sauce. To use the phrase ‘grew accustomed to it’ really isn’t correct. You never grew accustomed to it. You just killed more taste buds each time.

A dog or a burger served with that sauce on top (All the Way) was deadly enough. But a ‘Kibbles and Bits’ sandwich was kind of like a ‘Sloppy Joe’ only made with the sauce instead. A person eating that was receiving four times the amount of that vile mixture than an ‘All the Way’ sandwich. The fire fries were a bit less intense in as they used less sauce but added Texas Firehouse chili as well.

Very few people ordered either, let alone both except for the brave… and the assholes.

Donna was a ditz but she was no asshole.

“Whew, honey are you sure?” asked Peg, breaking a sweat just thinking about it.

“Yep, yep, yep,” replied Donna, wringing her hands together.

“Well honey, I hope you’re not going anywhere tonight ’cause you’re gonna be turning the air blue! Whew!” said Big Peg turning back to the kitchen.

“One Kibbles and Bits! At table ten!”

A siren wailed and a red light on the ceiling started blinking.

“Kibbles and Bits!”

“Kibbles and Bits!”

“Kibbles and Bits!”

“One Fire Fry!”

A blue blinking light came on as a gong sounded.

“Fire Fry!”

“Fire Fry!”

“Fire Fry!”