Of mice and missiles…

Deer Trail was a fantastic place to grow up without much supervision.  We pushed the limits of our creativity and managed to stay alive to talk about it.  I remember riding on the hood of my friend’s car going down the highway at 40mph, walking through the bonfire after consuming beer from the keg, and tipping over cows once they fell asleep.

Once we got told off by the high school secretary for not doing enough posters and flyers for our high school football team.  It wasn’t really her place to grumble at us, and we wanted to get her back.  My friend’s family owned the “Dairy King” in Deer Trail, and they just so happened to catch a mouse in a trap a few days before.  We drove up to the store and grabbed the dead mouse, and headed back to the school.  Secretly we found a place to put the dead rodent-in the secretary’s desk drawer-thinking that she would find it the next day.  That night we were in the old gymnasium decorating for a dance, and all the sudden we heard a bloodcurdling  scream.  Apparently some of the girls were up in the office working on signs to put up around the school, and the secretary went to her desk for another pen.  Without turning on the lights, she reached in and grabbed the mouse.  She screamed bloody murder-we heard it from the opposite end of the school.  My partners-in-crime and I knew what happened and bolted out of the school (think Bo and Luke Duke).

We got called in to the office the next morning and had to face our punishment.  We got the big “talking to” about how rude and mean we were blah, blah, blah and not to do it again. We decided dead rodents were not something we should use again-but man it was awesome!  Looking back we raised a lot of hell, and we broke the rules, but we worked hard when we had to.  I think the biggest rule we probably all broke was not staying away from the missile base.

I am not sure of the whole story of the missile base, but I do know that once it was finished it was deemed obsolete so it was never used.  It was the coolest/scariest/deadliest place we ever went.  We heard people used to live down there, and some stories included witchcraft.  We climbed down three or four flights of stairs into the complete blackness,  It was cold, and parts of it were flooded, but it was so cool.  We would explore different levels, and we found “death floor”, which was a floor that only had the metal framing left.  We had to walk very carefully, or we would fall into the nasty watery abyss below.  One time my boyfriend (at the time) and I went down with a small flashlight and a lighter.  We explored deep into the darkness and I was scared. My boyfriend made me use the lighter to walk through the tunnel-and I was petrified.  The tunnel was a straight shot, but there were metal braces coming out of the walls that I could have run into.  We ended up climbing through an exhaust pipe and made it back to the sunlight all covered with soot! (101 Dalmatians got nuthin’ on me!)  I never forgot that trip to the missile base, or the boy I was with, but I got him back.

I dated a guy that my foster parents didn’t like. They made it hard for us to spend time together, and I finally gave in to the pressure and we broke up.  He was a good man, and we had fun together, but he started dating some of my friends.  One night I was staying at my uncle’s house (my foster parents went off on a weekend trip) and we were driving around, drinking a little (ok a lot) and checking who was out and about.  We spotted a truck that I recognized from the years we dated, and then it was gone.  We searched all over but they were gone.  We tried going out to the fields to look for them and we hit a hare.  I don’t really know why, but we picked it up and threw it in the back of the pickup. After a few more searches, we found the truck.  They had stopped to “make out” and we pulled up on them with our lights off.  My uncle had ducked down and let my other friend drive, and we let the parked truck know we were there.  GOTCHA!  The response was different than we thought as my ex-boyfriend yelled out “How did you get that fat-ass’s pickup!”  Well that angered my uncle and he popped up and said something else back-something about kicking his ass-and my uncle got out of the pickup, and grabbed the dead hare out of the pickup bed and tossed it in the cab of the lovebirds!  We took off like a bat outta hell and laughed ourselves silly!  I wish it would’ve ended there, but our great prank fueled us into “More Beer for my Friends” and we imbibed a little too much.  I was sitting next to my buddy and he was near the door.  I told him that I felt like I was going to “blow chunks” (vomit) and he needed to let me out.  He turned and said “no you won’t” but he was wrong.  I decorated his blue jeans, t-shirt, and even his tennis shoes.  My uncle told me not to get any in his truck, and I didn’t.  It was so gross, it was everywhere, and my buddy wasn’t very happy with me.

Lesson: if someone says they are going to vomit, do not say “No, you won’t”!

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