Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Knucklehead, the Serial Rapist

Did I ever tell the story about being suspected as being a serial rapist?

No?

Gather 'round for another heartwarming tale of serial rape, kids. Once again, we go back to my days in college. I was dating Julie, who, for those of you who have been reading my crap for a while, was the former roommate of the Playboy centerfold.

Julie was having a party one night. I was playing with my band in town, and told her I would be by after. We finished, and I went over to her house at about two in the morning. The party was huge. When I walked in the door, it was like the needle was scratched off the record. Every female in the room stared at me in disgust, looking at me as though I had just killed a kitten for fun. Julie was no where to be found.

I finally found out that some crazy bitch had been to see us play earlier and told Julie that I had been making out with some chick on our break, boldly making out in full view of everybody. It was complete bullshit, but Julie bought it, so everyone at the party was pissed that the boyfriend of the hostess would pull such a stunt on the night of her big party. Julie wouldn't even let me see her to defend myself.

I went home to let things blow over. Unable to sleep, I drove back over to her place at about six in the morning and let myself in. I quietly opened the door to her bedroom, only to see her and a former boyfriend sleeping.

Obviously upset, I left and went for a walk. A campus policeman stopped and began to ask me questions about why I was walking around campus at six on a Sunday morning. Next thing I know, three squad cars with Denton, Texas' finest lawmen come screetching up. Some come to join in the conversation, some stay in the car. I remember one cop in particular looking at a clipboard and back at me over and over and over. They kept me there asking questions for about 30 minutes, explaining that I matched the description of a serial rapist who was on the loose. I was pretty pissed and upset about what had happened the last 12 hours, and I was ready to give a false confession just to have a feeling of being a martyr for a while as I sat in jail. Fortunately, they let me go before I did such a foolish thing.

They published the composite drawing of the rapist in the campus newspaper that week. I must say, he looked a whole lot like me, same 80s blond mullet, and a similar face. What got me off the hook was that he was listed at 5'8". I am 6'2". I think they eventually caught the guy.

After a few months, Julie accepted my side of the story, and began taking my occasional late night booty calls.

8 Comments:

At 11:20 AM , Blogger Plimco said...

Oh good. So it all ended happily. Booty calls for everyone.

 
At 11:30 AM , Blogger Nashville Knucklehead said...

Yeah, booty calls are good, but I really liked her. Until that night, I was thinking about marrying her.

Uh . . . I tend to do that a lot.

 
At 11:55 AM , Blogger Plimco said...

How many times have you proposed to people anyway?

 
At 12:09 PM , Blogger Nashville Knucklehead said...

It's not the proposals that cause the trouble, it's the acceptances.

(Takes a knee)

Plimco, Will you marry me?

 
At 12:50 PM , Blogger Plimco said...

Whoah. Are you serious? What about that girl you hang out with that gives you all the really good blow jobs?

I've never been proposed to...in a comment box before...

I need a minute...

 
At 1:01 PM , Blogger Nashville Knucklehead said...

Oh, yeah. You think she'd be pissed?

 
At 1:03 PM , Blogger Plimco said...

I doubt my virtual blow jobs will have quite the same...affect as hers. It's ok. You can take it back. Now that's what I'M used to.... sigh.

 
At 8:50 PM , Blogger SistaSmiff said...

I'm so glad you didn't marry her. We wouldn't have had that amazing story on the Southwest airplane, if'n you had've.

 

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