1974 Sadie Hawkins Dance. “CHUCK” The Heartbreaker! Part 2

Chuck Bucklin? Yeah, I kicked his ass once!” 
Pete Steakley, CoCaptain Farmstead Farmers Football Team.  Farmstead High School. Class of 1974. 

“Chuck Bucklin? Pfffftt! Get Serious would ya? I gotta a Weight Watchers Meeting in 15 minutes. “
Christine Jensen, Assistant Editor of “The Plow,” Farmstead High School, Class of 1974

The Story Continues… 

The phone rang in our small kitchenette. 
BRRRRINGGG! BRRRRINGGG! BRRRRNGGG! 
Causing all of us to look up from our dinner plates piled extravagantly before us. 

Mom had splurged on a “Deluxe Version” of Hamburger Helper that night. Tonight’s Feast was Hamburger Helper “Taco Style.” One of my Absolute Favorites! 

Putting down her fork Mom dutifully went to the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. 

“Hellllooo!” she said in her charming English Accented Voice. 

Pause 

“Yes, He is. I’ll put him on.” 

“Charlie it’s for you.”

Mom beamed at me with approval, handing me the phone. She mouthed the words “It’s a girl” silently as she sat back down. 

“Hello?!”

“Chuck?!” 

“Oh yeah?” my voice dropping a few octaves. 

“Is this Chuck?” 

“Yeah.” my voice dropped even deeper.

“It’s me, Sara. Sara Connolly from School.” 
Damn. Busted. 

“Hi, Sara.” 

Pause. 

“Your Mom called you Charlie.” 

“What?” 

“Your. Mom. Called. You. Charlie. Sara said pointedly and slowly as if explaining herself to an idiot. 

Is that your Real Name?” 

“Uh No. No. That’s just what my Mom calls me… Ya know… Heh… Heh… Mom’s and their ” Little Boy’s” nicknames.”

 
Ha-Ha!-Ha! You’re funny. Sara laughed.

Pause.

“Chuck?!” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are we still on for the Dance this Saturday?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Definitely. Yep, we sure are!”

“Whew. I hadn’t heard from you so I wanted to make sure. Ya know confirm our Date.” 

“Yeah. We’re on.” 

Pause. 

“So what is your costume going to be?” I need to know so we kinda match.”

“Costume?” 

“You know. It’s a Sadie Hawkins Dance. We have to dress alike.” 

“Oh yeah…. aaaah? Ummm…”  I stalled. 
Damn, I had Nothing. 

Frantically I looked around for inspiration. The Living/Family Room offered little inspiration. That is unless you wanted to dress up as lamps or matching love seats.

“Chuck? Are you there?”

 
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just checking on something.” 

Out of the corner of my eye, on TV, I saw Ritchie Cunningham and “The Fonz” go at it again on their weekly show “Happy Days!” 
Eureka! Saved. 

“Well, after giving some thought uh Sara… Why don’t go as… Uh… Kids from” Happy Days. Ya know that early 1960’s stuff. I mean Time Period.”

Silence. 

Then… 

“I Like it. Chuck that’s a Great Idea!”

“You Do?!’ Relief washing over me. 

“Uh-huh. I even have my Sister’s Old Letter Sweater she got from Framington University back East. 

“Really? Ha! Ha! Ha! Does it have the letters FU on it?” I cackled over the image. 

Silence. 

“Well Yeah it does.” 

“Uh… That’s Great! Really Great. OK wear that. 

” OK. What are you going to wear?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll come up with something really good. Something Cool. You’ll like it.”

“OK Neat. That will be wonderful.”

“OK then. I got a lot of homework to do, my Mom needs some help around the house, and uh I have some other important stuff. Lies. Lies. Lies. 

Silence.

“Chuck. I am really looking forward to our Date on Saturday Night.”

“Uhhh. Oh Good. Cool. I’ll see you then at Christine’s at 7 pm.” 

“Chuck…umm..Are you looking forward to going out with m…” 

“Aww geez. I gotta run.. I’m coming to Mom.” I hollered to an empty room.

“Bye Chuck” 

“Later. I mean goodbye, Sara.” 

I hung up the phone quickly, sagged against the wall, cold sweat pouring down my back. 

I had dodged a bullet. Sort of. 

The Vice of Destiny now had me inexorably pinned, the pressure was on and I was the Nut it was going to crack. 

The rest of the school week passed in a blur. The days ticked off. And suddenly it was Friday, the day before the Big Dance. 

There was a fraught tension in the air. A combination of sweat, excitement and absolute Terror. 

I remember seeing groups of Girls squealing, talking, excitedly and giggling in the hallways during lunch break that day. 

The Guys I saw around Campus had haunted expressions of Impending Doom or Extreme Bowel Distress. 

Like I said before – This was a “Girl’s Dance.” The Guys just grinned and bared it. 

Since cowardice has always been my forte, I slunk out of my Western Civilization class, heading off-campus, determined to avoid the quad during my lunch break  
I did not want to hear any more razzing from “My Friends” and mostly to avoid You-Know-Who and Not Talk about You-Know-What. 

So I hid in the parking lot, cut remaining classes and smoked a half a pack of Camels commiserating with Tyler. 

I played it low till the dismissal bell rang and then  I cut out. 

Even then cars from school would come roaring past and yells of “Bucklinnnnn! Chuuuuuckkk! See ya at the Dance Stud!” bounced off the pavement around me as I walked home.

 
Dinner that night was Hamburger Helper Stroganoff and small iceberg lettuce and the ubiquitous Wishbone Dressing “Italian.” Mom even threw in a few wedges of tomatoes – which was a real treat.

Friday Night TV usually sucked so I turned in early and read a couple of chapters of Robert E. Howard’s “Connan The Barbarian” and played a little Black Sabbath Vol 4 just to relax. I needed to get my rest for the Big Day Tomorrow. I’d probably need it. 

Then it was Saturday. The Ominous Day had arrived. 

Morning breakfast was OJ and another nauseous bowl of Honey Combe – a cereal I had adored as a kid,  but by age 17, I barely found palatable. My brother and I had over the years begged my Mom to buy a different cereal but to no avail. Sometimes she’d bring home a tasteless concoction called “Puffed Wheat” but that was Only If the local Safeway was out of Honey Combe. 

Trying to put off thinking about assembling my “Costume” I settled down in front of the TV and watched one of my Favorite TV shows “Big Time Wrestling.” 

“Big Time Wrestling” was a local Bay Area Wrestling programs that played every late Saturday mornings. It featured Heroes like Pat Patterson, Ray Stevens, Rocky Johnson, Andre The Giant, and Pepper Martin. The Villains had names like “The Interns” with their Oily Manager “Dr. Ken Ramey,” “Moondog Mayne, The Sheik, Kinji Shibuya also filled out the lineup of Bad Guys. Hank Renner MCed the show with great flare. 

Today’s program was great. 

Hank Renner interviewed” Moondog” after the match in which Moondog cheated of course and won. They verbally sparred. Hank filled with self-righteous indignation and Moondog braying his superior wrestling skills. “Hank! Ah, don’t know what the Heck you’re talkin’ bout. Ah, don’t do anything that ain’t legal in the ring. That Boy got beat Fair n’ Square!” he declared in his Southern Boy accent. 

To really throw the audience a twist Moondog proceed to eat a Raw Turkey during the interview, only adding to the bizarreness of his character, while Hank visibly blanched. 

And to think people get freaked out about Ozzy Osbourne’s stunts! Heck as much as I grew to love Ozzy – “Moondog Mayne” had him beat for Outrageousness years before Ozzy became the Official “Prince of Darkness” of Heavy Metal. 

Anyway, the show has always been one of the highlights of my youth (that and “The Ghoul” which broadcasted on Kaiser Channel 44 where Ron Swede the Insane Horror Movie Host broadcasted out of Cleveland Ohio the absolute Worst Horror Movies ever printed on celluloid. To break the monotony of such lousy movies – The Ghoul would make quips during the movie, read letters, wave Kielbasie, spray the set with Cheese Wiz and blow stuff up. Fun! ).

 
On the show, midgets were tossed, Bad Guys had suspicious “Foreign Accents, low blows abounded, Cheating was the norm, contestants ate glass, metal, raw turkeys to prove their ferocity. Contestants used canes. Saps, Brass Nuckles, Loaded Boots, Chairs. Karate, anything Foul to win their matches. There was blood spilled by the Gallon. 

And Poor Hank Renner usually got pushed around post-match interviews by Massive Pissed Off Wrestlers who threatened to pulverize him. 

Nothing was sacred or Politically Correct on “Big Time Wrestling” and I mean Nothing!  You had to understand that all Bizarro Shenanigans were done just to keep the show alive. This was when Wrestling on TV was teetering on extinction before it became hip again decades later.

I always watched “Big Time” with a mixture of Disbelief, Hilarity, and Awe. IT WAS PURE THEATER AND I LOVED IT!  It was 90 minutes of Bitchin’ Entertainment and if anything was going to snap me out of my Funk this was it. 

There was nothing like watching stuff that was “So Bad It’s Good” on TV to cheer me up. 

“Big Time” wrapped up and I still had hours to fill. So I manually switched the channel to the “Chiller Theater” program. “Chiller Theater” was an afternoon program that featured very tame Horror movies for Kids.

 
This week’s programming featured the ongoing “Godzilla” Saga “Godzilla vs. King Kong” and “Destroy All Monsters”. “Godzilla was a monster that routinely stomped the crap out of the city of Tokyo.

You’d have thought by now the Residents of Tokyo upon hearing “Godzilla is approaching the City”  would flee for the suburbs. But no. Tokyo Scientists continuously scratched their heads looking for a solution, while the citizens got flattened to pancakes and buildings were crushed to a powder once again on a routine basis. 

Sigh. They sure don’t make them as they used too. 

After 6 hours of watching Bad TV – I was in a soporific bliss of binge-watching Crap. 
The day quickly passed as I lay on the floor watching one show after another. My mind-numbed, poached like an egg as I was lulled into a Valium like a stupor.

A stupor that can be only appreciated by the connoisseurs of rotten television in all its Epic Dreadfulness. 

Soon dusk was approaching and it was time to get ready to face The Music, The Firing Squad, The Tribal Custom of Ritual Humiliation, or in other words The Sadie Hawkins Dance. 

Yeah, Time to figure out Just What The Hell I was going to wear to this Shindig. 
But I’ll pause here. 

End of Part 2

To be continued…