KARL WALLACE
Who's Coming To My Valentines Party
When I was single, foot loose and fancy free in the good old days of 1979, I owned a dream house condo located in the South Ogden, Utah, Ironwood Condominiums. It had everything under the sun in it that you could imagine; a wet bar, home theater, seamless thick carpet and dyed-at-the- factory, carpeting in the garage, solid oak doors throughout, a safe behind a picture, etc. All of it was designed, produced and build by Eddie O’Brian owner of Crown Water Beds in Riverdale. I bought the layout from Eddie a year after he finished it off and then got married.
I wanted to make it real special on Valentine’s Day, so I made plans for a quiet fun-filled Valentine's Day in a private atmosphere with an 800-gallon circular tub with a bar in middle, to a comfy 101 degrees, chocolates, streamers, stereo music, and flowers. Everything was ready.
A full three weeks before that, I had a bright idea. I would buy a blow-up doll--a gift for my girlfriend Janice Walker. I went down to the Mr. B’s adult book store on 702 Wall Avenue around midnight. Mr. B’s got its name from the owners Mr Larry Bramwell and Mrs. Mary Ann Bramwell. Being afraid someone might recognize my car, I parked it a half block down the street. Weber County is so small that everyone knows what everyone else is doing. Coming out of the dark shadows, I opened the door and walked in. I wore a heavy coat with the collar up and a hat covering half my face. As I stepped in, a bell rang and I turned my back to Larry who was standing behind the checkout counter. I began looking at the magazines. He asked me if he could be of help. I was the only customer in the store. I answered with what I thought would be a normal question.
“Do you have any Playboy calendars?” He said, "No, not this time of year." I then asked him for what I had come in for in the first place,
“Do you have any blow up dolls?”
He pointed me in the general direction of the back room which was full of all kinds of stuff. It is quite an education if you haven’t been in an adult book store. After browsing around for a full hour, I finally stumbled onto an inflatable man. It was about normal size so that it could substitute as a passenger in my car when driving in the car-pool lane. It looked human, if you use a huge heap of your imagination. I paid 69.95 which included a G string. Valentines morning, I used the air compressor to fill the doll with air and at the same time I named him Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy. Jack came to life with a pliant body, muscular legs, and big chest muscles and no clothes. I stood him against the fireplace and I sat back to relax. "This will make Jan giggle," I told myself.
But, lo' and behold, my Mother and Dad showed up. Jack was standing in plain sight of the entry way. Dad noticed Jack the moment he stepped in the door.
“What the Hell is that?” he demanded. I quickly tried to explain,
“It’s a doll.” However, my humor didn’t coincide with my dad’s.
“Who would play with something like that?” I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.
“Where are his clothes?”
“Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Dad,” I said, trying to steer him into the kitchen dining room. But Dad was relentless.
“Why doesn’t he have any teeth?” Again, I could have answered, but it was Valentine’s Day and I didn't want to shock him by saying what I was thinking, then maybe have to be kneeling over him saying, “Hang on, Dad, Hang on; the ambulance is on its way!”
My mother, with age having has laid its hand, waned feebly with poor eyesight, sided up to me and asked,
"Who’s the naked man by the fireplace?”
I said, “Its Jan’s friend.”
A few minutes later, I noticed Mom by the mantel talking to Jack. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that I realized this might be Mom’s last Labor Day at my place.
Just then, Jan stepped in the door, saving the day. Lunch went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed Then suddenly Jack made a bang that sounded like a canon. He lurched from the G string, flew, smoking around the living room three times to the right, and fell in a heap on the front-room French-Imported Gaeta couch, dead.
Jan screamed. I passed chocolate sauce through my nose and Mom ran across the room, fell to her knees with a heavy heart and crying eyes, and began administering mouth to mouth. Dad threw down his napkin, stomped out of the house, sat in his car and started intermittently honking the horn for mom to leave.
It was indeed a day to remember. Later, in the garage, Jan and I conducted a thorough examination to find the cause of Jack’s collapse. We discovered that Jack had suffered from a hot ember to his left buttocks. We restored him to health using masking tape. Jack went on to star in several Tupperware parties, and Mom often calls me about Jack.
*Ten months after the occurrence related above...Somehow, Love, a social media website, was asking people to vote on their virtual web site as to whether they thought Mom and Jack should get back together. And, if you can believe it, they also were selling bumper stickers that said: Jack and Mom Are MAD 4 U.
To read more of Karl’s stories go to: Karlwallaceblog.blogspot.com
