I f**ked Charlie Brown

This is a prime example of how sometimes, with the assistance of an obscene amount of alcohol that the 2 most unlikely people can and will end up together at the end of the night, even if they’re 5 inches shorter and about 50lbs lighter.

So there we all were at my friends party – the later they showed up, the more stoned or drunk they were. The party was packed, like something I would have only imagined from one of those teen movies; in reality they rarely were ever that crowded. Most teenaged parties were too elitist or clique-centred to have so many people invited, but apparently word had spread for this party across a few schools in the area and everyone and their cousin’s brother showed up. Not before too long it was bordering on out-of-control, and I was kind of glad it wasn’t my house!

Perhaps it was because there were so many people from other schools that the original few that we knew ended up gravitating towards each other. The skater boys from our school had showed up earlier in the night; these were the guys that on any normal day either ignored me or took an opportunity to make fun of me for one reason on another – usually my “funny” accent was their choice of attack – it got old fast, but you know what they say about small things amusing small minds.

There were about 6 guys in their group and none of them had girlfriends (shocker), even though they thought they were the coolest guys in the school. They just were a over-charged herd of testicles that festered and boiled. One of the ‘leaders’ of this skater clique was this odd little fellow that resembled Charlie Brown. He was about 5’1’ with a perfectly round head and his hair was so thin and pale that all he would have had to do to perfect the similarity was put on a yellow and black sweater. When I first saw him at school and they told me that he was ‘Charlie’ I thought it was funny that it was his name... but I guess it was one of my blonde moments because they laughed at what I thought was cool irony. “Ya! That’s why he’s got that nickname, genius, that’s not his REAL name, but everyone calls him that.” Ah, OK. Got it. Fair enough.

I was sitting on the couch, trying to take in the insanity of the party and working on a pretty good buzz. There was only a little space left on the couch, but Charlie was a little guy, and he squeezed in beside me. “Hi Stef-an-ieeee” he said, in his stupid failed attempt at an American accent. Must have been the booze because I laughed at him this time. He proceeded to make small talk with me... for the first time ever. It was strange but I was curious to see how it was going to play out.

After a short while I had to go the toilet and get another drink, so he said he’d come with me. Perhaps the little lost puppy had got separated from his testosterone posse, who knows. Usually, where there was one, the others followed not far behind... but there was Charlie, following ME around. As we walked around the house party, he put his hand on my waist as not to separate from me and it was then that I started to get a little more intrigued about his ulterior motive. My inhibitions had been tossed out the window about an hour before, so what the hell? With a new drink in my right hand, I pushed Charlie up against the nearest wall with my left, grabbing his midriff in a sexually charged kind-of-way. He gave me a little Charlie Brown grin that showed off his 3 forehead ripples very clearly, like they had been drawn on personally by Charles Schulz.

We started making out and the sneaky little kid had his hands up my shirt almost immediately, not that I minded. Not long had passed and we heard screams coming from outside. Someone had been stabbed! That’s right, stabbed! What the hell was going on? Everyone was scattering like an ant hill on fire. Charlie grabbed my hand and we escaped out the side door and went to hide in the garden of the neighbouring yard. Oddly, we weren’t even focused on the chaos that was happening, not even when the cop sirens and lights appeared. We just pulled each others’ jeans down around our ankles and started having sex right there in the garden, on the uncomfortable landing of a 4-stepped cobblestone path.

It was awful; absolutely, outrageously awful. He had the smallest penis I had ever seen! Size isn’t usually an issue...but to an extent. Christ! Then the logical part of me piped in, “What did I expect? It’s bloody Charlie Brown! He could fit in my pocket.” Maybe I hoped he was packing something awesomely disproportionate to the rest of his tiny body; I was wrong. Anyway, it was over fairly quickly as well, which was fine with me, since I couldn’t feel anything anyway.

There were many mornings after a substantial drinking session that I thought to myself through a throbbing hangover, “What did I do? And, why the hell did I do that?” This time was even more bizarre than others because that next morning I had to add to my myriad of embarrassing questions, “Did I just fuck Charlie Brown?” Yes; yes I did. Good grief!