Nose-feratu

Like it or not, almost everyone who voluntarily, or though sheer misfortune, enters the world of Mooney manages to acquire some kind of nickname. Some are based on persona, like Jeff Death or Psycho; some are based on more thematic elements like Mouse or Puddles; some are to fit caricatures in the Orcas Dorcas stories like Musically Bloated Brian and Big Fat Wolf; but most are based on unflattering physical characteristics like Fetus, Monkeyhead, Fat JP, and the namesake of this story, Nose-feratu. In case the reader cannot infer said characteristic, the name refers to a young woman who had a nose the size of Massachusetts.

            While I am aware that the story likely began much earlier in the evening, and may have contained heretofore undisclosed adventures of all sorts, it began for me late one night well after I had retired to bed. It was general practice that I locked myself in my room each night, being a sound sleeper in a house full of mischievous roommates and associates, but that night I had forgotten. A tragedy that would have been as although it cost me a night’s sleep, the memories last a lifetime.

            Something prompted me to arise out of my dream filled slumber and wearily open my eyes. What initially registered on my vision caused them to quickly open, and perhaps even emit a startled cry. Clustered around my bed were Dan, Louis, Matt, Clan Frank, some other people I didn’t know, and the belle of the ball, Nose-feratu. I had, of course, chosen that hot summer evening to retire to bed wearing practically nothing; a fact of which I became suddenly and keenly aware of with 10 pair of eyes looking me over. My only consolation was that the dreams I had been having were not of such interest to cause me yet further embarrassment. I asked the assemblage politely to be so kind as to give me a moment to compose myself, “What the fuck? Get the fuck out of here? God! I’ll be out in a fucking minute!”, or perhaps said something more rude in nature.

            I was tempted of course to just lock the door and get back to sleep as I had work in the morning, but something tickled my curiosity; a show was brewing that just might be worth the high price of admission. The previous day had been Dan’s birthday and we had celebrated by getting a beer ball from the L&T and cracking it open, having had no pump. Despite our best efforts, we had only managed to finish off about half of it. The evenings activities apparently made the assembled crowd thirsty, and they came by to partake of the remains. At the time I had not questioned how they got in, and probably assumed that Jason had left his keys in the door as per usual. Much later I found that Aaron had brought them in, and then promptly retired to bed. The debt I may have owed for swindling the big room was paid in full, with interest.

            While everyone dipped their cups and took some of the left over Beast (Milwaukee’s Best), Stacy, Nose-feratu’s given name, went at it two fisted. In a very short amount of time the feisty young woman was three sheets to the wind. Now, I had not known previously that stale, flat, low budget beer was a powerful aphrodisiac, but found on that particular night that it indeed was. Hammered and horny, I can only imagine that she considered each of the males present as a potential target. Louis, however, became the apple of her eye and she committed to pursuing him with unabashed zeal and determination.

            It may be that she intentionally picked the most difficult conquest; Louis being the only one present not drinking that evening and with the clear level head to eschew an ill considered dalliance with drunken jail bait. Despite the unflattering nickname drawing attention to her significant schnoz, I don’t recall her as being completely unattractive, just a wholly bad idea. In any case, she chose wisely that night and thus postponed the inevitable journey toward trailer bound young single motherhood. Be that as it may, she pursued him relentlessly around the house though most of the remainder of the night.

            Unwilling or unable to leave all together, Louis chose a wise hiding spot on the roof of the Florida room, accessible only though the windows in my bedroom. There he was able to rest in relative safety for some time. Inevitably, someone found it far more amusing to tip her off to his location, and without further adieu, she was out the window in a flash, eerily reminiscent of the spinster hen in Foghorn Leghorn cartoons (A Man!). My room filled up quickly to watch the show and others gathered outside to get the worms’ eye view from below. Now, I have never been one to shoot down a poorly conceived, dangerous and alcohol fueled undertaking, but having a very inebriated young woman backing her intended paramour closer and closer to the edge of the roof somehow struck me as immediately threatening to my future freedom. I could hear the prosecutors questions in my head, “So Mr. Wolf, now how old was girl who you liquored up at your house, stuck on a roof for bizarre sexual purposes, and who subsequently fell to her death?” Some questions have no right answer.

            Louis somehow made it around her without getting caught and kissed, and reentered the house. A faction of the assemblage, including Louis, put forth the idea of closing the windows and locking her out there until she calmed down. I and some others noticed, however, that she seemed to be getting upset and was pacing around in a very wobblesome fashion about the roof, going on about this or that in a loud voice, and being urged to jump by the hecklers on the front lawn. “So Mr. Wolf, you are telling me that this young woman was actually urged to jump after being drugged and sexually harassed by guests you, and only you were responsible for?” I had seen enough episodes of Matlock at my grandmothers to understand how these things played out. Not wanting to spend my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s playing ‘drop the soap for Bubba’, I convinced Matt to accompany me out on to the roof to coax or drag her back in. Being reminded that both Louis and the beer were inside, she came willingly and without struggle.

            After coming back inside, she seemed to lose interest in her ‘sweet babu’ and instead decided to concentrate her efforts on retrieving a pair of shorts from a friend by calling the presumably soon to be ex-friend’s mother at 2:30 AM. I think Louis might recall the nature of the call the best, as he already posted comment on it, but I believe the conversation consisted of her telling the likely irritated mother that she didn’t want the shorts back anyway since her whore of a daughter had gonorrhea from being fucked up the ass by a Puerto Rican in a bathroom on the east side. I can only imagine the conversation that inspired between mother and daughter the following morning. By this point, and to our collective delight, Jason woke and joined us, and as it turned out, knew Nose-feratu as they had worked at the campus Burger King together. His presence did not have a calming effect and seemed to drive her to further levels of agitated despair.

            I somehow found myself once again in the unfortunate position of  kind listener as she decided to unload the woes of her past. In this particular case I was treated to a litany of how her recently departed step father, apparently an alcoholic himself, would have been deeply disappointed in her behavior. I then got to hear in great detail how much she loved him even though he would regularly bend her over the couch and whip her ass with the belt; something I had little doubt was deserved. Jason chose this point to horn into the conversation, and I took the golden opportunity to flee back to less depressing parts of the house.

            By 4:00 AM the beer was gone and everyone’s least favorite little hellion was all tuckered out and ready to leave. I extracted from Matt a promise to return in 1 hour to drive me to work as I did not feel I would have the energy to make my customary bike ride there. I went up to my room to salvage what little sleep potential still remained in the night. I came into my room to find occupying my easy chair, like a highly disappointed parent on prom night, a stern looking Knaus. He looked at me silently in disapproving disgust, waiting for me to begin explaining myself. Caught completely off guard, I did just that, stammering out the story with heavy emphasis regarding my own victimization in loss of sleep. Knaus had been awoken by the incessant harpy like screaming of Nose-feratu as she chased Louis about, and remained too angry to either get back to sleep or come down after it had ended. Getting up, he said the conversation was by no means over and that whoever brought them over would have some explaining to do as well. A very fitting end to a surreal night.

            I never saw Nose-feratu again after that night, but I believe some of the rest of them did. In any case, she never graced our doorway or roof again, which was just fine by me. Based on her poise, class, and upbringing I can imagine her now, living on the wrong side of a trailer park, in her 30’s but looking 50, having born a brood of illegitimate bastard young, and wondering what her life would have been had she only been fast enough to catch her wiry bespectacled intended.