[2741] in Humor
HUMOR: An 80's story
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Jonathon Weiss)
Fri Apr 2 02:31:34 1999
From: Jonathon Weiss <jweiss@MIT.EDU>
To: humor@MIT.EDU
Date: Fri, 02 Apr 1999 02:30:32 EST
------- Forwarded Message
From: Amy Beverley Chan & Jeremy David Weiss <slinkie@weissjd.erols.com>
(from: rnr1231@ix.netcom.com)
This will only make sense to those of us who have the dubious distinction
of being children of the eighties. If you were "there", then you just
might understand ;-)
An 80's Love Story
I was working part time in a five and dime. My boss was Mr. Magee. He was
six foot four and full of muscles and walked like an Egyptian, but I was
happy to be stuck with him. One manic Monday, while I was busy working
for the weekend, I overheard him make a careless whisper.
He told two of my co-workers, Jack and Diane, that I gave love a bad name.
Well, I got so emotional, baby. I told him to say say say what he wants,
but don't play games with my affection. He told me it was hard for him to
say he's sorry and not to worry, to be happy. Then he blamed it on the
rain. He was so out of touch. It just took my breath away. I couldn't
fight this feeling any longer. I asked him "What's love got to do with
it?" He told me to get outta his store and his dreams and into my car.
So I figured I might as well jump. I cut footloose, went home and called
my girl, Jenny. (You already know the number) She was on the other line
with Amanda. They were talking about Mickey and how he was so fine. That
blew my mind! Was she really going out with him? I told her that I had
just called to say I love her. She told me she had been saving all her
love for me, but now she was looking for a new love - asta la vista, baby.
I thought "I can't go for that - no can do! Bring me a higher love!" I
called up some of my old west end girls, hoping that one of them would
want to get physical all night long (all night). First I called Billie
Jean - she told me to beat it. I called Rosanna - her sister Christian
blessed the rains down in Africa and then hung up on me. Come on, Eileen!
... no answer. Nobody told me there'd be days like these! I was feeling
like the owner of a lonely heart.
Then, out of the blue, my best friend's girlfriend (she used to be mine)
Roxanne calls. Yes, the real Roxanne. She told me she still hadn't found
what she's looking for and that she wanted to take on me. I said "I
thought you were Jessie's girl." She said "Don't you want me? You don't
have to put on the red light - I'm on my own." What a feeling! I had the
eye of the tiger. Who was I f-f-f-foolin? Roxanne drove me crazy like no
one else. She's a beauty! She blinded me with science, and weird science
at that. There was always something there to remind me of her and I just
knew that I'd have the time of my life.
I wasn't about to la-di-da-di. I jumped in my little red Corvette and
rocked down to Electric Avenue. I got my mind set on her. When I got to
her house (in the middle of her street) I ran. I rapped on her front door
and to this rapper's delight, i heard a voice say "Who can it be now?"
"Here I am, the one that you love", I replied. I let my love open the
door and was immediately lost in her eyes. I felt like a virgin touched
for the very first time. She loosened her blouse and said "Rock me
Amadeus!" Well, I felt it was my prerogative to bust a move. I told her
"I'll tumble for ya!" as I pinned her on the stairs, hungry like the wolf.
Just then I felt an invisible touch on my shoulder. "Turn around bright
eyes!" said a familiar voice. As I did, Jessie hit me with a
sledgehammer of an uppercut that spun me right round like a record. He was
hangin' tough and continued to roll with it, knocking the wind from
beneath my wings - broken wings by this time. He rocked me tonight, for
old time's sake, beating me from head to toe, until my true colors were
black and blue and blood was spilling from my mouth like red, red wine.
"You don't owe me money for nothing!" he snarled. At this point I was
livin' on a prayer. I crawled back to my little red Corvette and drove
home thinking about how my tainted love had cut like a knife - how it
seems that every rose, truly, has its thorn. No longer do I want to know
what love is. Love stinks.
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