From: mgundeko@pcserver2.Naitc.Com (Murthy Gundekota)
Subject: Teens, anyone?
Organization: Somewhere near Chicago
Date: Thu, 3 Sep 92 18:49:30 GMT

A Short Story
=============

I am done with dysfunctions and dysphlexia. What is dysphlexia? If you
told a teenager that unless (s)he is 21 years old, (s)he can't have
sex, when (s)he has just mutated into teen-dom, at age 12 years and 1
pico-second, and then if the teen asked you back: ``Can I carry a
condom until I am 21,'' then you've witnessed dysphlexia. Sounds
eerie? Then you haven't met the Rolling Meadows Teens of Chicago. An
urban legend goes as: ``Fire spitting dragons fly above movie theatres
and oriental restaurants.'' Time to update it. ``Fire splitting
dragons fly passionately above the heads of Rolling Meadows
teenagers.'' The dragons are like the Damascus sword. Anyway, what's
my scoop? The scoop is, I've met a teen of Indian descent recently.
Let's call her, for the rest of the article, Abra.


I met Abra in a Taco Ball in front of Big Kahoonas, a local flesh bar,
where ID's are checked at the entrance as a precaution against aliens
from the outer space. It was 11 p.m. and Abra was barely cheerful. Her
eyes were red and the gait was saying, ``Take me to a bed and drop dead.''
She was with a friend about her age, probably late teens. They were
smoking cigarettes as though tobacco was going to be rationed the very
next day. Or George Burns has left behind a will saying, `mix my ashes
with tobacco leaves and spray all over the earth.' I know they were
inside Big Kahoonas, before coming to Taco Bell, and drank beer there.
How do I know? Because I saw them.


It's her friend who noticed the Indian nexus, probably by the action
of nicotine on her barren neurons (Pavlov would've named such a
phenomenon ``born again neurons to experience life with dependency'').
She issued a glance of recognition in my direction and made up a smile
for the sake of her Indian friend, who would've bought her several
beers that evening.

The lady from the east wakes up to this naked-teeth reality, visible
only in some people's grins, and condescends to look in my direction.
At that time I would be clearing the drip of molten cheese and red
taco sauce around my moustache, which was hardly a Freudian hint, even
for a Pavlovian neuron. So she would've quickly turned her head away.
That's the American way. You would use anything deprecating to
blackmail, subjugate, exploit, and if possible surrender your sexual
opposite, no matter whether you had sex or ever had sex for that
matter. Polaroids were invented just to catch such moments. But, such
a thinking is paranoid, which even I will agree.

So I step up to mike. What mike? ``Ahem, are you gals from Rolling
Meadows?''  ``Yeah, so?'' ``I saw you in the Big Kahoonas and thought
you were bootlegging.'' ``What's that mean?'' ``Did you see
Untouchables?'' ``I know there is Unforgiven and who is that
California guy that acted in it...I forget.'' !!How can you, when you
don't even know? Then, Clint Eastwood would've been a better gentleman
that I was!! (Bangs are my thoughts folks just as inside parans are
the words by my alter-ego. Just kidding.) ``So which school you gals
go to?'' Some
long-fellows-long-dicks-sex-instead-of-prayer-or-education school (The
gals go to two different schools named after Longfellow and Charles
Dickenson).

So we talked and talked and talked and then drank pop while they
smoked until their lips vaporized. It's time to close Taco Bell. Yeah,
even that place closes so they can pack their pennies into paper
rolls.

I woke up the next morning in someone's bed. The smells were unusual.
I couldn't believe I would commit a transgression of the law by having
sex with a teen. I could be in the prison. In fact, I should be in the
prison for even thinking of such a thing...that to with two teens. So
two life terms. How would I defend myself? ``Your honor, these girls
approached me when I was alone at 11 p.m. at Taco Bell. They showed
their ID's which said their age was 22 something at that point in
time. Then one thing led to another and we have consented to have
sex.'' I know it won't work.  I am not a big shark to pull the power,
like those Big Kahoona's folks who sold the girls beer illegally,
which made the girls horny and lose their sense of morality.
Especially, the Indian one had it ingrained in her fiber.  That means,
she must've had six beers at least. Can anyone imagine what would
happen to those Indian parents? They would cry, curse, condemn, and do
anything but commit suicide or allow their teenaged girl to date
someone (anyone she liked, even if they hated) steadily. Probably,
they will come after me and sue the hell out of me. I will be
disgraced. I will lose my academic credentials.  I will be stripped
off my job and residency in States.  Soon I will pack my bags and head
to Antarctica for oil exploration.  Even India won't let me in if I
wanted to break my journey there.  Seriously, is it my fault? How can
it be? In America the teens do various things they are not supposed to
do, because they are either drunk or on drugs. Not all of them.
Certainly not all Indian descended teens. But, some of them are, no
matter where they came from.

Those were the thoughts when I woke up that morning in a motel because
the previous night I had lost my aparment key. Thankfully, those
girls, Abra and her friend, had long left from Taco Bell. Donno where
they went. But, why wait at the door step of my apartment all night if
I've lost the key? I am not a teenager.


Cheers,

Murthy