Blackhumouristpress's Blog

July 26, 2018

John Hughes Gone Wrong

Around the time that John Hughes was getting ready to write Sixteen
Candles and pick the homogenous, insulated, sanitized suburb of
Chicago, Luke was about to have a party in a less idyllic Chicago
hamlet.
“It’s fucking selfish of you to not have a party.  Your parents are
in Sweden for two fucking weeks?  Come on, don’t be a fag… If
something goes wrong, we have two weeks to fix anything that could go
wrong,” said Patrick.
Patrick looked middle aged as a junior in high school and because of
his height and receding hairline covered by a black bowler hat; he
could easily pass for 25.  The Korean liquor store clerk questioned
Patrick’s age when he came in to order the keg.
“License!  This is horse shit!  I fucking come in all the time and
buy from you people and now you wanna see my license?  Fuck it, we’re
outta here…  We’ll go buy somewhere else.”
The smiling older Oriental man and they were Oriental back then,
grabbed Patrick’s arm and told him it was okay.

Patrick sat shotgun in Luke’s mother’s 1979 Buick Regal.  It had a
nice stereo and a cassette player.  The song, House of Fun by Madness
was blaring in a distorted way.  Patrick wore a white dress shirt with
the sleeves cut off and a thin black tie under a suit jacket that had
the sleeves removed.  Luke wore a black pork pie hat and a white Fred
Perry shirt, jeans and penny loafers, in the back seat was Tom and
Craig who dressed equally as “Rude” Ska loving Rude Boys.  Patrick saw
Joey Dee’s car up ahead and told Luke to speed up.  Joey Dee owed
Patrick some money and he wanted to collect.  Just like in the movies,
Luke drove fast through side streets chasing Joey Dee in a Chevy Nova.
Joey panicked and hopped the curb and drove through a park, sending
moms and children scurrying in the mid-day summer sun.  Luke followed
and exited the park, swerved to avoid an oncoming car and hit an elm
tree at 35 mph.  The tree shook a tiny bit.  The car was cleaved a bit
right up the middle of the hood.  The four occupants of the vehicle
were involuntarily propelled through the windshield.
“Oh fuck!  I am fucked!  Look at this fucking car!”
Thomas had not said much up until this point.  After checking their
scalps for cuts from the windshield, Tom had a solution.
“Let’s get this fucking thing out of here.  We’ll park it somewhere,
go to the mall, call the police and tell them that we saw some blacks
creeping around the lot and that we think they stole it.”
Luke drove the car looking through a hole caused by his own head.
There were three other holes and then the windshield looked like a
kaleidoscope.  Before all the fluids drained out of the car, Thomas
parked the car and they all piled into Patrick’s car and went to the
mall.  It took the City of Chicago Police thirty minutes to arrive.
Luke looked distraught; the other three were nice and cool. That was
not difficult seeing that it wasn’t there car.  The cops asked what
happened.  Patrick and Thomas took turns giving their thoughts on who
stole the car.
“We saw two young Canadians looking going up and down the aisles
looking into cars,” said Thomas.
“Um Canadians?”
“You know… Porch monkeys, spear chuckers…  Colored folks…  Negros.”
“Okay…  I follow you now.  Anything else you wanna call them besides black?”
“No, I guess you know now.”
“Right…  So what did these two look like?”
Luke and Craig had eyes wide open like Buckwheat while Thomas and
Patrick spoke calmly and openly the way they thought two white cops
might appreciate.
“Um…  As you can see, it’s dark in the garage here.  They were young,
skinny and black.  One was wearing a Walter Payton Jersey and the
other had on a Bulls tank top.  I think he had on an Artis Gilmore
jersey or some shit… We’re pretty sure they stole the car.”
Patrick dropped Thomas, Luke and Craig at Luke’s house.  They carried
all the living room furniture into the garage to make way for the Ska
band that was going to be playing later that night.  Plans were set,
there was to be a party with maybe twenty people, booze, chicks.  Luke
had to figure out how he was going to keep the dog and his
grandfather, a World War I veteran in the basement.  Luke found the
key to the door leading to the basement and locked his grandfather in
the basement with the family dog.  The band set up, people began to
file in and be the time the sunset, there were close to a hundred
people in the house, the backyard, the front yard and on neighbor’s
yards.  The Punk Rockers showed and stood with folded arms and
listened to the band, while the Rude Boys skanked around in a style of
dance only seen at Ska shows.  The Italians showed and began to push
people around.  A big guy named Sal walked around ripping on everyone
at the party that had that new wave look.  The Punks stood up to the
Italians; the Italians began punching the Punks.  The Rude Boys jumped
in to help the Punks.  In all of the wrestling and punching, the keg
got knocked over and cracked the tile on the kitchen floor.  A few
minutes later, the police showed up and cleared out the party.  What
remained was Luke, his three friends and his grandfather who he had to
present to the police to prove that there was an adult in the home.
“Jesus Christ!  I think you broke that Hi-Fi.  It was damn loud up
here and the dog shit on the floor.”
“Sir…  Are you his grandfather?”
“Why yes I am…  Is there some sort of problem, officer?”
“No, sir…  No problem…  Hey kid, no more noise tonight, got it?”
“Yes sir…  We won’t sir.”
There was a sanitary device that clogged the toilet, foot prints on
the wall, cracked tiles in the kitchen and a destroyed car claimed to
be stolen by imaginary black people.  Craig took out two mason jars of
hooch moonshine purchased in Tennessee.  The boys mixed it with fruit
punch while listening to Blank Expression by The Specials on the
Hi-Fi, which was not broken. Luke had a few sips and then hooked the
dog onto the leash to take him for a walk.  The Doberman Pincher
barked for a solid four hours before becoming incensed and shit on the
laundry room floor.  Luke thought about everything that transpired
through out the day as the dog, which walked ahead of him along the
dark sidewalk.  The dog near bushes lunged and grabbed something and
began to shake it.  After a few seconds, the dog dropped what he had
in his mouth.  A white stripe on a small animal trotted away.  A skunk
sprayed both Luke and the dog.  The dog was rubbing his eyes, snorting
and flapping his head.  Luke came into the house barefoot and in his
underwear to get all the tomato sauce he could find to slather on
himself and the dog in the backyard.  The scent of skunk hit the trio
getting loaded up on homemade booze.  Luke went back in the backyard
and covered himself and the dog in sauce designed for pasta.  After
about an hour, Luke came in to find Craig and Thomas still drinking
and Patrick passed out on his stomach.  Patrick snored and wheezed.
Luke kicked Patrick hard once to wake him but he was truly passed out.
Luke left the room and came back with a blue rubber glove that his
mother used to wash dishes and a large jar of Vick’s Vapor Rub.  Luke
hiked Patrick’s pants far enough down to expose his large buttocks.
He then took his middle finger in the rubber glove and slammed it in
the Vicks.  Craig and Thomas laughed knowing what was coming next.
Patrick moaned as the rubber glove entered his anus.  Luke slipped his
hand out of the glove and left it in Patrick’s ass.  Luke calmly spoke
to his other friends.
“I’m fucked.  The house is fucked, the car is fucked and now
Patrick’s ass is fucked too…  I got another glove.  Either of you two
assholes want Vicks up your ass too?”
The four fell asleep on the living room floor until the sun was high
in sky.  After getting slapped by Patrick in the face with the glove,
they set about to touch up the paint on the walls, move an area rug to
cover the cracked tile, fish out the rag flushed down the toilet and
return the furniture to where it once stood.  A few days later, Luke’s
parents returned from Europe and slowly learned about everything that
happened including the theft of their car.  The insurance company
called to tell Luke’s father that they had found the car, there was
damage but it would be fixed.  Luke’s father, an intelligent man
looked at the car and told Luke what he thought.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“Here’s what I think…  You went joy riding and racing around in this
car with let’s see here… yourself and 1,2,3 other friends and you hit
a tree…  There’s tree bark in the grill.  One of you Einsteins came up
with the idea to claim it was stolen.  The cops and the insurance
company bought it but I’m not sold on that story.  You then had a
party.  You had a keg and cracked my kitchen tile…  You locked the dog
in the basement with grandpa, the party got out of control.  The cops
came and broke it up…  Am I close?”
Luke was so impressed with his father’s deductions that he admitted
to all.  Rather than yelling or slapping his son, he said nothing more
thing before they got back in their other functioning car and drove
home.  It was a very un-John Hughes ending for Luke and yet
unforgettable.

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