It’s New Year’s eve, 1968. It looked to be one of the best nights to party, EVER! My best, and only friend, Frank Angelostro, had just bought an Econoline van with a stretched body, so, we had wheels. Also, invitations to about ten partys. We couldn’t wait to get off work and get to it. I was working at Wes Thompson’s rifle range. Frank was waiting to go into the Army, then, Nam. He went to basic in two weeks. Now, I had plenty of guys to goof with. Frank was a guy who would help you hide a body, then, lie to the cops about it. Our first stop was to be some drinking and dancing at the ELKS club on Sierra Hwy. Just past the Backwoods Inn (I was banned for life there, another story)…Franks older brother, Sam, was awaiting some cases of beer and bottles of Jack Daniels I had spent weeks stealing and trading for. Also, Jodie F. was to be at this dance. She’s a cop now someone told me, so, no last name…Jodie had two things going for her. She was the smartest gal at Hart High in Newhall, plus, the most smoking body in five counties. I actually had hopes of dancing with her, then, who knew what might transpire! Naturally this pipe dream went right out the window after Jodie beat the living shit out of Frank, but, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself…Unknown to me, Sam and Frank, both short, wide-shouldered Italians who looked like Nick, Burt Lancaster’s circus side kick, had made their own plans. At eight ten pm, on the dot, Sam was to execute an invention of mine, the grab and run. It worked like this. Sam, slipping outside for a smoke, would hit the side of the ELKS lodge, drop the main power switch, making the dance inside, pitch black, instantly. You would only hear the drummer and the singer for a second or two, while people lit lighters and matches to see what was going on. This gave Frank a tiny window to grope Jodie’s body, then, squat down and back into the still dark room. Me? I’m talking with some girls and trying to impress Jodie. A waste of time. She was accompanied by Fred Debanardi, the state shot put champion. A guy who would stand over his 305 Honda cycle doing doughnuts with it like it was a mini bike in Harts parking lot. Suddenly, its pitch black. A scream is heard in the dark, off to my left. It’s not a woman’s scream. Also, the ELKS had a secret weapon we had no idea existed. Back up floods that came on instantly in a power failure to light the emergency exits. Fucking progress can be a bitch. Frank paid for this inovation. The only reason he didn’t get a taste of Fred’s 22-inch pythons and 20-inch shoes, was Jodie. She had everyone spellbound by the beating she was laying on Frank. Before he could finally break free, she had flattened his nuts with tremendous upper cuts to his crotch with her stout right arm working like a mini sledge. Her left had Frank long black hair in a death grip, bent back, making his screams ehco off the festive bannered ceiling. As she took a breather, Frank broke free and ran for his life. Blood was running down his face and arms, a patch of his hair in Jodie’s hand like an Indian’s scalp trophy. As she wheezed and caught her breath, she pointed at me and said, “That’s the little assholes buddy!” Fred put it in gear right for me as the crowd opened like the Red Sea for Moses. I dove through the kitchen serving window and hit the back door, a girl from my home studies class actually said hi to me as I ran for my life. Once out the back door, I hear a guy moaning off to my right. Not stopping with a six six, 265lb monster on my ass, I hear Sam’s voice calling for me to come back. Sorry. Maybe for Frank, Sam? He was a good man, but, I had to live. Looking backwards, as I start to run across a fairly empty Sierra Hwy, no Fred so I start to slow down. Oh god, he almost caught me. He had changed direction and gone out the front entrance to cut me off. Coming around the front of the ELKS into my sight, urine squirted down my leg as my natural defenses kicked in to lighten my load for faster flight. Dodging some headlights going both ways, I can hear those big gun boats of Fred’s catching up to me. Now, in a panic, I run for a front porch that had a light on. The front door was partially opened about ten inches. I clear the three or four steps at a leap, blast through the doorway, and keep moving. I look to my right. An old man is eating a TV dinner and watching TV in an old easy chair. I say nothing witty. I spot his back door through his kitchen and blow right on out it. A pit bull in the yard? I didn’t care, I knew what was behind me. Nope, just a shitty, overgrown with weeds yard and a short fence just before the wash behind. I clear the fence like a Gazelle and run into the brush, on up into a ravine. All in the dark. Half my shirt was ripped off me. Cuts and scrapes by the dozen. As I dove in a big sage, I bite my arm to stop gasping for air and to listen for pursuit. I can hear Fred shouting with an old man shouting back, then, nothing. My heart takes about fifteen minutes to slow down. The sound of an ambulance, makes me work my way back to the wash. I come out into an empty lot I knew well from ditching Highway Patrol on my dirt bike. I see a crowd, then, an ambulance heads out of the ELKS lot. No siren or lights. I didn’t know Sam was in the back of it. Seems that when he hit the power shut off, he was standiing in a sludge pool of rain run off. He was blown twenty feet and had the soles of his wing tips split. He also lost his eyebrows and the front of his goatee and mustache…I hitch hiked home to Saugus. New Years was over for me…All 100% true…
