Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1

Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1. Ditzy Donna and Ralphie's first Christmas.

Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

"I really did used to like the holidays," grumbled Ralphie Persons Junior; as he rubbed the same spot on his head that he'd whacked several times in a row on the same slanted ceiling beam. It was the first weekend in December, and he was crawling around the attic, looking for boxes of holiday decorations, that his mother wanted hauled downstairs and put up, the day after Thanksgiving. Having just started his first term at community college, Ralphie Jr. managed to dodge that bullet by complaining that he had a couple of papers due in English Composition and Early American History. The papers being due the Monday after Thanksgiving was true, but he'd left out the part that they were already finished. With a mighty grunt, he shoved a box of Easter lawn decorations aside and hit his head again. That time he saw stars. "If she wants them down so bad, why doesn't she do it?" he grumbled louder to himself.

"Because she's more than twice your age, she doesn't like to hit her head, and she's got you to do it," said Ralph Sr., looking like a disembodied head sticking up, out of the floor of the attic. "Now, if you're done complaining, I'm sure you've got some boxes to come down; so pass them to me and I'll take them down the ladder for you."

That suited Ralphie just fine, because trying to balance the boxes as he slid out the access hole, and then find his footing on the ladder; was no easy chore. He pushed what he already had found, toward the opening and looked for more. After hitting his head once more, he was convinced he'd found them all. "I think that's it, Pop."

"You're missing the box with the tree ornaments," came his mom's voice through the access way.

Ralphie took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Alright mom, I'll keep looking," Jr. said, sounding a bit miffed. Actually sounding a lot miffed.

"We're gonna go and start setting up the outside lights and blow up characters," said his Pop through the hatchway. "That'll keep us out of your way a while and let you blow off some steam. I don't want you saying something to your mother the wrong way and have you regret it later."

"Okay," sighed Ralphie, nodding his head as his Pop disappeared down the hatch. He took a long look around the attic and didn't see a box marked ornaments, so he decided to straighten and organize the entire loft by opening each box and marking them. He found that some of the boxes had his old clothes that he wore in grade school."Why doesn't she get rid of this stuff?" he thought to himself. Then he chuckled."If she's waiting for grandkids she's got a long wait."

He didn't really have a girlfriend but his parents thought he did. For some reason they both kept pushing the idea of him and the girl he took to the prom, Louise Johnson, as being a couple."A couple of dorks," he thought. Actually, he did take Louise AKA 'Looney Louise,' out on a few dates during the summer. She was kind of funny and interesting, but her shenanigans and her perpendicular hair, far outweighed the positives, except for her tits. "Whew," Jr. said, shaking his head at the thought of them. He remembered when she showed them to him, and he started to daydream.

Double Feature.

They were in the back of the movie theater and she was jamming popcorn in her mouth. He saw that she had as much 'fruit of the Redenbacher' on her shirt as she still had in her trough of popcorn. "I think you better do something," he said, pointing in the general direction of her breasts.

She put the bucket under her boobs and pushed the lucky kernels back in causing her breasts to bounce several times. "There, better?"

Other than a few genuine imitation butter stains she was all clean. She settled back in her seat and shifted around a bit almost slumping, forcing her breasts up and out. Between the seat in front of her and her tits in her face, Ralphie didn't think she could see the screen. He didn't realize he was staring at her, until her eyes slowly turned toward him.

"Imagination running wild?" she whispered, placing her trough of corn on the floor. "I bet you've got a hundred different visions of what they look like, going on in your head. What do you think they look like?"

Ralphie sat there with his mouth agape.

"Oh come on. Maybe they're perky, droopy, hard, or soft. Maybe they have veins all over them. Maybe my nipples are large like acorns, small like cherry pits, or even big and puffy," she whispered, encouraging him in her game.

Ralphie still sat there with his mouth agaip.

She sighed. "No idea, huh? Okay," she said, unbuttoning her blouse down to her navel and unclasping the front hook on her bra. She snapped them open and said, "Behold!"

Attic of Family Artifacts.

He was startled out of his obcessions by his father's strong voice.
"Junior, did you find them yet?" his Pops voice said from the hole.

"No, I decided to go through everything while I was up here. By the way, why is Mom saving all my old clothes? Some of this stuff goes back to first grade," he yelled loud enough for his Pop to hear.

"I don't think she's actually saving it. It was more like putting winter or summer clothes away till next year but you grew out of them and they just didn't come back down. Mark those boxes 'Donations', slide them toward the hatch, and we'll get them down the road to the Goodwill later. Just make sure you go through every box you want to donate to make sure there isn't anything important in them," yelled Pop.

"Okay," Ralphie yelled back.

Thinking back to Louise, as he continued his work, it reminded him that he hadn't heard from her since she went out west to college. She didn't come home for Thanksgiving, and he wondered if she was coming around for the Christmas break. Several times, he thought to call to just say hello; but she didn't have a cell phone, (something about messing up her brain waves). He didn't have any idea exactly where she was staying out there; so that was that.

Eventually, Ralphie found the ornaments and pushed them toward the hatch. The other holiday decorations were neatly stacked by which event came next on the calendar; and all that was left was for him to go through the boxes he marked 'Donations'.

Most had nothing but clothes in them and a few had some old grade school projects in them like a Thanksgiving turkey made from a tracing of his hand. He put that kind of stuff aside for safekeeping and opened the last box. Under some toddler clothes, he found some folders and spiral wire-bound notebooks that belonged to his Pop. The folders contained some receipts and warranties for products long gone. Like that fax machine, and the Commodore Computer.

The wire bound notebooks had some recipes and newspaper clippings about people his parents knew. One of the books had some writing in it, kind of like the notebook he'd found in the garage that spring. He flipped through it and saw some of those same magic words he'd seen in the last book like, 'boobs and tits'. That was dad's old email password for his AOL account. On the first page, it had a header and a title:

"Journal:
Thursday, December 26, 1974."

"Christmas With the Ditz"

Ralphie settled himself under the dangling light and pulled the string to turn it on. "Okay Pop, entertain me," he said as he began to read...

Dating Donna.

It's been two weeks since she came back into my life. Donna. Ditzy Donna. I figured I'd write this down while it's still fresh in my mind. It's been kind of a crazy two weeks but what other kind would it be with her? She made the decision not to move in permanently with me until she found a job to help contribute. The job hunt took exactly fifteen minutes when she walked two blocks to Kiddie City and landed a job demonstrating toys. That sure took a stretch of imagination to see her potential as a goof-ball playing with toys for kids. At least she didn't have to go too far for the party favors she wore out on a regular basis. Her smock was always loaded down with a usual assortment as well as her favorite, a pair of Groucho glasses. The guy that hired Donna remembered her from somewhere in the past and gave her a huge starting rate. Most people started at two dollars and hour but he gave Donna six. I'm still a little jealous of that, considering I've worked for the same place since junior high school and don't make much more than that.

By Wednesday of her first week, the manager realized he had a goldmine with her and worked her as long as she wanted. When they closed Saturday night, they gave her a paycheck for sixty-four hours at $6.00 an hour plus overtime, plus a hundred-dollar bonus for a job well done. The boss even cashed the check for her. Suddenly Donna was a rich ditz with the next day off and Christmas coming a few days later. On that Saturday night, the 21st, the true meaning of Christmas started to come shining through: Love, generosity, and ditzyness.

Shopping Spree.

I heard the door slam and came out of the bedroom.

"Look," yelled Donna, fanning her riches out in front of me.

"They could be all ones," I said, standing on the other side of the room.

She bunny hopped herself over to me and flapped the fanned greenbacks in my face. Nope, they were all twenties and tens and as crisp as the day they were made. "We got to go shopping," she said, slurring her words from a dollar induced high.

I looked at my watch and said, "It's nine-thirty, everything's closed."

She crossed her eyes and gave me a Bronx cheer. "It's the Saturday before Christmas! Everything is open until midnight!"

"You said you wanted to go out to eat tonight. We can't shop and eat at the same time," I said. Donna suddenly looked very disappointed.

"Come on, Ralph. I worked real hard this week for this," she said, letting her fist full of dollars flop down to her side. It was immediately covered by her six-inch too long sweater sleeve.

"I don't feel like dealing with that tonight. I just want to and get something to eat and then hang out with you," I said, trying to sound as sincere as I could. That and the fact that we hadn't had sex since last weekend when she came back into town. Not that we didn't want to, it was a matter of female biology.

"Do you promise to take me tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Bright and early?" she asked, holding her index finger up at me.

"Yes."

"Bright and early as in first in line when they unlock the door?" she asked, now wagging her finger at me.

"Ah, yes," I replied not as rock solid as before.

She looked at me a second and tilted her head. "Cross your heart?"

"Yes," I said, crossing my heart.

"Pinky swear?" she asked, holding out her little finger to me.

"Yeah, pinky swear," I said, hooking my little finger with hers.

"Good. Now before we go out I need a shower 'cause I stink," she said, walking past me to the hallway. I watched her as she walked in the bathroom, turned on the light and the transistor radio. One by one, pieces of clothing were tossed out into the hallway and then the door closed. I heard the water start running and turned to go to the kitchen. The bathroom door opened, her hand popped out, and her finger beckoned me to follow.

I may not be the smartest but I didn't need an explanation on that gesture. Even though I'd just gotten a shower an hour before I shucked my clothes and was in the bathroom faster than you could say 'All the way!'

She was completely under the shower with her eyes wide open watching me as I hopped in myself. Little Ralphie was stiffly bouncing with glee at in her direction.

"Don't get too frisky, we don't have a condom in here," she said, handing me the soap and washcloth. She was right; I had nearly four dozen brand-spanking new assorted Trojans sitting in their boxes, individually foil raped, tucked safely in the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed.

I told you I wasn't the smartest.

Shit.

Well, there was no use crying about it so I started to give Donna a good scrub down. I started down at her feet and worked my way up, taking extra special care on her privates and giving her boobs two coats of wax. She did her face herself to make sure she'd removed her make-up properly while I got the shampoo ready for her. Somewhere between squirting her head and getting up a full head of lather, her hand had managed to attach itself to little Ralphie.

"Feels like someone didn't like being ignored this week," she said, blowing soap foam away from her mouth. "Think he'll forgive me?"

"I'm sure he'd be happy if you tried," I replied. Just then, Sam Cook's 'Chain Gang' began playing on the radio.

Donna started bending her knees and moving to the music, giving me hard tugs with every 'Hooh! Aah!' She mouthed the words, 'Well don't you know...' and then said, "I'm going to make you cum before the end of this song," while blinded by lather and spitting soap.

"Okay," I squeaked, while trying to clean that wild mop of blond hair.

She sang some, mouthed the words some, and gyrated as she worked on me to the music. She started using both hands, making sure that every time the 'Hoohs' and 'Aahs' came on, the tugs were more forceful. By the time he was singing about going home to see his woman, I wasn't scrubbing her head any more, I was holding on for dear life. My left knee started shaking and I gagged on a mouthful of water as she coaxed me over the edge. As he asked for some water 'cause he was thirsty, the first blast hit her on the stomach. The second and third hit her thigh and kneecap and the rest dribbled down into the water.

Donna held me until I went soft while I leaned on the shower wall for support. "I told you I'd make you cum before the end of the song," she said, spitting more soap at me. "Now do you mind if I rinsed off too?" she said, still blind with lather.

"Sure," I said, climbing out and drying myself off.

Out To Eat.

At 10:30, we were slamming the doors to my car. We could've been out of my apartment ten minutes faster but even with a super heavy-duty hair dryer it takes forever to get Donna's hair to the point of just being damp let alone dry.

"So, where do you want to go?" I asked, as my '64 Malibu turned over.

Donna thought for moment. "I guess we're a little late for the 'All the Way House'."

'Thank God,' I thought.

"I'm hungry, but I just don't know what I'm in the mood for. Just head over to Main Street and we'll look for something open," she said. A car pulled up behind us, blocking our way out. "Uh oh," said Donna when she saw who got out of the car.

It was my good buddy Jim. "Hey guy, how ya doing?" He asked leaning down to my window. "Hey mop head," he said, nodding in Donna's direction. "I see you're heading out. What a coincidence. How about letting me use the place for a little while?"

Jim usually dropped by on Friday nights to 'use' my apartment. Being it was Saturday I thought I was safe. Guess not. "I don't think so."

"Come on. We'll be gone before you know it," he said, looking back at his smoking piece of crap. Tonight's girl looked about ten years older than us; and her make-up was crooked.

The memory of last week's debacle was still fresh in my mind, and I couldn't help but get nasty. "How much is she costing you?"

"Be nice," he said, wagging his finger at me. "It's a cousin of my sister's friend. She's got Parkinson's or something."

"Getting pretty far down the list, aren't you?" asked Donna, shaking her head.

"What, are you kidding? That shaking bit could take things to a whole new level," he replied, humping my door to stress his point.

"No, for a lot of reasons; starting with the fact that you owe me twenty dollars, for the money you took out of my wallet."

He tossed a twenty down on my lap.

"You also owe me fifty for that citation for disturbing the peace."

Two more twenties and a ten fluttered down the steering wheel and my legs.

"My apartment still smells like burnt popcorn!"

He went to his car and came back with an unopened air freshener.

"You smashed my TV!" I shouted.

Jim sighed. "I can't help you there right now."

Donna weighed in; "He said no, Jim. Go down by the lake. She can give you a shaky handjob like all the other high school kids parked over there," Donna said. "Now move your car, I want to eat!"

That was my Donna; ditzy, yet assertive.

I didn't bother letting Jim in on the fact that I had the citation taken care of. Well, I had fifty bucks toward a new TV. He left, and we were finally on our way. We passed a few burger places, but neither of us wanted one. Then Donna pointed. "Oh! Vito's is still open!"

Vito's pizzeria and restaurant opened its doors in 1950, in a strip shopping center; as a simple pizza and sandwich shop. Business was so good that a few years ago when a store next to it went vacant, he expanded; turning it into a table and booth establishment. The food was excellent and they had a BYOB policy that most customers utilized. Though their menu was somewhat pricey, it was a successful family business. No, I don't mean Vito's family. I mean that other Italian family.

You know, wink-wink.

Now, I don't know for sure if Vito is one of them, but there's always a table that has four to six men in suit coats playing cards, while people come and go, greeting them with envelopes as they shake hands. It's always the same four to six. One thing was for sure at Vito's:

Skipping on the check, was not recommended.

I'd heard rumors of those that tried; nothing factual, just stories. Tonight the check will be paid, cash. I enjoy walking without a permanent gimp.

We entered the place and the first thing I noticed was all six suits were in attendance at their usual table, playing cards and the place was all decked out for Christmas. Donna picked a table far enough away from the door so she could take her coat off and not get cold, but she left her very long sleeved cardigan sweater on. I left my coat on and sat down. I looked around, saw a few people I knew, and only a couple of empty tables.

"I guess there's a lot of hungry people, finishing holiday shopping tonight," I said.

"Look at that tree," said Donna, marveling at a giant white fur lit up like a, well, like a Christmas tree with all white lights standing in the corner. "We need to get a tree."

"The apartment complex kind of frowns on that, Donna. They're fire hazards. They don't mind artificial trees," I said, trying to salvage her good mood.

"What? You mean those stick aluminum trees that have a lighted dial that changes color shining on it? My grandparents had one of them. It looked stupid," she replied. "I want one like that!" she said loud, pointing across the room.

That got the attention of the 'suits' and they turned to look.

"Donna!"