Brain Freeze

Steve and Steve lived across the street from us for several years. They were good neighbors for the most part, so we resided in harmony.

At the end of every school year, Ericka and I throw an end of the year party. Friends arrive at Obner State Park from the various schools I have taught at, our church, the VA hospital, and our neighborhood. They all bring their favorite side dishes to go with Ericka's famous sloppy joes, and we have a fabulous picnic in our back yard.

One year I decided to borrow the Steves' popcorn maker. I felt the theater style popper would be a fabulous addition to the affair. The party went off without a hitch and everyone loved the popcorn while playing yard games and catching up with old friends.

The next day I cleaned up the popper. When finished, I trotted across the street to let the Steves know. I knocked at the front door, but no one answered. The lights were on in the house, and I could hear one of the Steves talking inside.

I decided to walk around to the back door as they might be on their deck. As I strolled along the sidewalk, I glanced into the open side door. This was a mistake I would regret for the rest of my life.

A set of steps inside the door led to a small room in the basement. In this room sat a naked Little Steve pleasuring himself at a computer. The horror froze me to the spot while my mouth flapped open. It took what felt like hours for my brain to send a message telling my legs to flee.

Bounding across the street, I headed for the garage freezer. I opened it and grabbed a container of ice cream. Inside the house, I snagged a spoon and collapsed on the sofa.

Later, Ericka entered the living room to find me shoveling ice cream directly from the container into my mouth. She stood there for a moment before cautiously asking, "What are you doing?"

"I am trying to freeze the vision out of my mind," I mumbled through a full mouth.

She looked me over before querying, "What image might this be?"

My eyes lifted to hers. I stuttered, "Naked Steve!"

The story tumbled out of me as I continued scooping ice cream into my face. Although it disgusted us, we eventually dissolved into laughter. We vowed to never allow our children to visit the Steves unattended and warned the neighbors of my “sighting”.

Years have passed. Big Steve died and the last we knew Little Steve was in treatment for his addictions. I have eaten many scoops of ice cream, but the vision of Naked Steve lives on in the dark recesses of my brain.

I fear future-me will still be mumbling fretfully about Naked Steve when I am in a nursing home. Hopefully, the young care givers will pat my back and hand me a bowl of ice cream.