WARWICK CASTLE

My favorite place in the entire World is Warwick Castle in England. When my family lived in England, while my dad served in the Air Force, I talked my parents into talking me to Warwick Castle numerous times. I also wormed my way into any school trip that was going there.

This is an event that happened the first time I went there, a True Story I call WARWICK.

In 1985 I was 11 years old and went to Warwick Castle for the first time on a school field trip. It was not the first castle I had been to, but to this day it is still the best. I felt a connection to the place I have never felt before.

It wasn’t déjà vu. It was more like coming home.

We took the normal tour. A guide showed us all the cool stuff they wanted us to see, and told us about the areas they didn’t want us to see. This included a Tower were prisoners who were to be executed were kept.

Guess where I went. Nothing was locked, nor roped off. I stole away from the group, made sure I wasn’t seen (sure . . .), and slid my way up the tower. It was dark, damp and very prison like. There were actually no lights and nothing modern to allow me to see.

As I reached the top of the tower, light come through the door. There was no handle on the tower door, and sunlight from outside seeped through. I pushed the door open and walked in. Light flooded in through the shutterless window.

The place had bad smell to it, and wasn’t very clean. It was very cool though. I looked out the window and saw just how high up I was. I’m not afraid of heights, but it was a little disorientating for a moment. I could see everything, included he parking lot which ruined the view – and the school bus.

I thought it was so cool. I was here and no one knew. Cool . . . until . . .

I felt my hair pulled. Pulled like an adult does when catching a child up to no good. My hair was yanked and neck snapped back. I turned around, but no one was there. I freaked out and scanned the tower. It was small, and the only door was the one I came in.

Just my imagination, right? Maybe a gust of wind? This was England and I was high up.

Spooked and trying to convince myself it was nothing, I left the room. I closed the door behind me to leave it like I found it. So no one would know I was there of course. The sunlight streamed through the hole in the door where the handle should be. It gave me some light to see by as I made my way down.

Then the light disappeared. I looked back, and something was blocking the light. The holes in the door were now pitch black.

Eventually I made my way back to the field trip group, and made claims I went to the bathroom. The teacher never believed me, but was glad I wasn’t lost. We finished the tour, and then were allowed to roam freely as long as we stayed out of off limits area.
The place was awesome and I enjoyed the rest of the day exploring the areas we were allowed in. The spooked and uneasy feeling I had in the tower slowly subsided. Once the bus ride home, I kept thinking about the tower, and how I had an experience no one else did.

No other time I visited Warwick Castle did I have a similar experience, but I also never went off like that again.

Ace

Urinal Unity

I have written about fond memories from England. This is not one of them. Call this a cautionary tale, but also a tale of unity.

It also show that things like this happened years ago and is not just a modern issue. On the positive side, it also shows how even kids can come together.

This is a True Store I call Urinal Unity.

I hate Urinals. I don’t use them to this day. This is the reason why.

1986 I was 12. I was on a school field trip in England to Stratford-Upon-Avon, home of Shakespeare. Awesome place, great day and even took a boat ride down the Thames! However, there was one bad moment.

I went to use a public bathroom, by myself. 12 years is a good age, and few people think this stuff would happen (then or now). I was using the urinal when this guy came in and used the one next to me. He started staring at me, made crude comments and want to touch me, and me him. I got the hell out of there.

I rejoined my group, all of us 10 to 13 years. I was not in a good place, and was scared at that moment. I told them what happened. Guess what?

We were all military brats. All of our fathers were serving in the United States Air Force. Some of us didn’t like each other, but no one missed with any one of us.

Imagine a group of 20, 10 to 13 year olds going into a public bathroom together looking for a man who tried to molest one of us.

That’s what happen. All of us military brats banded together, even guys I didn’t like looked out for me. We made one mistake, we never told the teacher. However, we all stuck together, and no one went off on their own for the rest of the field trip.

The trip ended up being great fun. Nothing else ever happen. I was never actually molested, but it was a freaky moment.

Ace.

IN REVERSE

I pay cash for everything, to a point depending on the price. I rarely ever use my Debit Card, and I don’t have a Credit Card (and don’t want one). This includes paying cash, inside the station, for gas. Usually this is not a problem.

This is a True Story I Call IN REVERSE . . . it became a problem yesterday. Yes, this is a story that actually happened yesterday.

I went to my local gas station by my house and pulled into the pump I almost always go to, pump #1. I went inside, got a small bag of chips, a soda and $10 on pump 1.
Well, at the pump, I took a swig of my coke, started to pump the gas . . . nothing. I reset the pump, tried again. Nothing. Third time the same.

No big deal, I figure the young girl just didn’t initialize the pump. I went back in, waited for a moment, and talked to the same clerk. All cleared up.

Still nothing when I went back to the pump.

I went back inside. Talked to her again. She told me I pumped my gas. I told her no. Then she hit me with this, “Pump 10 for $1 of gas, and you pumped it.”

Seriously, $1? Who gets $1 of gas?

I showed her the receipt . . . her face dropped. She realized what she did. Instead of $10 on pump 1, she put $1 on pump 10.

I finally got my gas . . . $10 on pump 10.

Ace

CLICK GRAB

About two years ago I had a great time at a Click Jab Wrestling Event. If you’re not familiar with Click Jab, they set up meet-and-greats with pro wrestlers and a wrestling event with a mix of indie and bigger name stars.

The Wrestlementary Crew was almost out in Full Force, Dave came with me, but Chris was unable to make it. He missed a great time.

A few of the big names that were there were: Christopher Daniels & Kazaraian (aka Bad Influence or The Addiction), Davari, James Storm, Gangrel, EC3 and Bret Hart!

Everyone list above wrestled that night except for Bret Hart (of course), who did get in the ring and talk.

However, my Highlight of the Night was something that happened during the Meet and Greet, with one of the ladies wrestlers there. No, I won’t name who it was, or what ladies where there.

This is a true story I call CLICK GRAB.

The Meet and Greet was a nice set up. Everyone was at their own table, doing signings, photos and selling merchandise. All the photos were taking by a Click Jab employee, on each person’s cell phone or tablet, or camera (???).

Of course I got stuff signed, grabbed some merch, and posed for my pictures with everyone. Great, fun time.

I even gave copies of my graphic novel Rushmore to Daniels and Kaz, as they are both big comic book fans, and I happen to know they read it that night.

My Highlight came when sitting down at a table with a certain female wrestler . . . she was very kind, very lovely and very grabby . . .

Yes, grabby. I sat down in the chair next to her at the table for my picture and she . . . grabbed my crouch! Seriously, as I sat there for a minute, she put her hand in my lap, under the table and grabbed my crouch.

YES SHE DID. NO I WON’T NAME HER.

After the picture was taken, she grabbed my phone to make sure it was good. Once my turn at the table was done, she hugged me and whispered ‘You’re hot.’

Yes, this actually happened – and I have witnesses.

I was molested by a famous female pro wrestler . . . AND I LOVED IT!

Ace.

Three (Not) Stooges

I’m sure a lot of people out there like to go antiquing, like to peruse used book stores and the like. I love going to swap meets and used books stores – mostly looking for books (obviously) and DVD’s/BR. Sometimes one can find great gems.

I have a few places I go to on a regular basis, and usually find some great stuff, like the two times I found some rare Three Stooges films on DVD. These weren’t even really stooges films, they were films from their time as Ted Healy’s sidekicks.

This is a True Story I Call Three (Not) Stooges . . .

A few weeks ago I found a used double feature DVD of Ted Healy and His Stooges films. When I got home I immediately popped it in to make sure it worked. This is something I didn’t used to do, but started doing earlier this year when some friends told me they bought used DVDs at this store that didn’t play properly.

Well I had only bought one disc from there that I found didn’t play – the same damn DVD. I threw that one out.

This one worked, boy did it work.

After I popped it in, I turned my back to look for my control. The DVD auto played. This was very embarrassing, especially with my mom in the house . . .

Loud sounds of moaning and screaming bellowed from my TV. I turned around to see a hardcore gang bang on the screen. My mother come into the room and saw the same thing. See laughed, and didn’t believe me at first that I wasn’t watching porn.

The Three Stooges disc in the DVD case wasn’t what it should have been, it was a freaking Stooges Porn Parody!

TRUE.

I took the disc back, but no one at the store believed me . . .

;( I wanted that Stooges Disc!

Ace.

NO LIFT, NO SUPPORT

Ok, some of you might actually find this story funny. In fact, I believe that everyone will find this story funny. Unless you’re me, of course. Or it happened to you.
What happened you ask? I had a door fall on me.

This is a True Story I Call NO LIFT, NO SUPPORT

A couple of months ago the lift supports for the hatchback on my jeep started to slowly go out. The door wouldn’t stay open very long, and would slowly start to close. It would seem like it would stay up, but as soon as I would go to put something in, or take something out, the damn thing would close on my head.

My car was trying to kill me!

It gets worse, every single one of my mom’s dumbass clients thought they knew how to fix it. All had the same exact idea: Twist it and tighten it up. No one paid attention to me that these lifts aren’t pneumatic but gas. Tighten them up wouldn’t work (on pneumatic either).

Problem was, it did seem to work . . . until it turned out that I WAS RIGHT!

My car really was trying to kill me! It was trying to eat me!

Oh, and twisting the lift supports didn’t work either.

It was a Sunday morning, my Mom and I were at a client’s house. She was inside and I was getting something from the back of the Jeep Liberty. What I needed rolled all the way to the back of the trunk area and lodge behind the back seats. They were seated up, not laid down. I reached all the way in to get the item . . .

AHHHH!!!! The damn door slammed shut on the small of my back! It bounded twice (seeing, EATING ME!)

Of course I could just slide out under the door right? Right?!

Nice such luck. The damn metal hook on the door that latches into the lock got caught on my belt. If I tried to move, the door moved with me. I was stuck.

“MOM!” I yelled a few times. Nothing. I moved, squirmed, wiggled a few times. Nothing.

Then it happened . . . the worst possible thing.

I heard laughing. Laughing! But there was no help forthcoming.

“Get out of there,” my mom said.

I couldn’t, I was hooked to the hatchback door!

Finally someone helped me. This person realized that I wasn’t goofing around. They were able to get me unhooked, and pushed the door up. I slide out. They let the door go. It slammed shut, hard. My lower back had a large bruiser on it I would see minutes later in a mirror.

There were about seven or eight people standing around laughing. My mom thought it was funny. She never heard me call her. She came out looking for me, and said that all she could see were two legs sticking out the back of the car.

ACE

AN XXX AFFAIR

“Warning there is some XXX language toward the end of this story.”

I’ll be honest, even I have a hard time believing this story, but it is true. It happened right here in my home town of Glendale, AZ, though one might think it would be more appropriate if it occurred in Porn Valley.

To showcase how long ago this actually happened, this proposal was made to me in a Borders Books and Music parking lot!

This is a True Story I Call AN XXX AFFAIR  . . .

To be truthfully, there wasn’t any affair, but there was an awkward, weird moment that left me with a ‘Maybe I should have done it,’ feeling.

One afternoon I was at the once upon a time Borders in the Arrowhead area of Glendale, AZ. Big store, lots of books, music, movies. I loved the place, but this story isn’t about Borders. It doesn’t even take place at Borders (or a least IN Borders).

It happened in the parking lot, on a bright sunny day as I was walking to my car. I don’t even remember if I bought anything that day, but I do remember this ‘affair.’

I won’t mention the girl’s name, or the company she worked for (both legit). What girl, you ask?

The girl in a pair of blue cut-off shorts and a white tank top. The girl with flowing brunette hair, long legs and . . . you get the picture. She was about twenty at the most, beautiful and had a very mature confidence about herself. I had seen her in Borders, but never said anything.

Oh, and it’s okay, around this time I was in my late twenties (no cradle robbing).

She’s was the one who approached me, introduced herself and starting talking to me. (Yea me!) She jumped up on the hood of my Ford Escort, swung her legs a little, flirted, then asked me something very odd, ‘Have you ever thought of doing porn?’

My reaction was to numerous a mix of emotions at one time to really describe. I’m sure that I had some weird look on my face because she laughed. She handed me a card and made it clear she was legitimately asking me if I would be interested in doing porn.

She worked for a Glendale based XXX website, and they were looking for some new guys for scenes. Good pay too.

I have to admit it, I thought about it for a moment. But if I did, there goes any chance of my writing career. It was tempting. We talked a little longer and I eventually asked, ‘Would I get to work with you?’ Naïve way to put it. Hey, I was caught off guard.

‘Fuck me? Of course. Why do you think I’m asking you?’ She made it very clear she wanted to fuck, and just as clear that she wanted to get paid while doing it. For the website. For the world to see. She topped it off with this. ‘You can cum in me too if you want.’

Well, duh, yeah. I was flattered. I was fluster. I was excited. I was hoping we could continue in the back of my escort.

I seriously considered it. This girl had ‘Dream Girl’ written all over her. She also was picking up a stranger (me) in a parking lot to do porn. How many other guys would/had she approached. How many guys took her up on her offer?

As much as I would have like to, I turned it down. Porn is best left for me to watch, not star in. She was disappointed, but gave me a kiss and told me to call her if I changed my mind.

Later after getting home, I checked out the website: There she was.
I looked at the card again, just business info. If I did change my mind, I’d be calling an office, not the girl. Her name was different on the site too. Hell it was different in every scene on there.

Ace