Boys Will Laugh at Girls When They're Not Funny

Story Submitted by Hunter:

Way back in elementary school, I started an unofficial club: the Warriors. We didn't do much aside from fashion crude spears out of sticks, call girls our natural enemies, and drink a lot of pop.

In my late 20s, I met Julie at a mixer for locals who liked to paint. I liked her immediately, but she had a boyfriend, who apparently didn't like to paint.

"We've been together for three years," she said, "But the romance is awful. Not to mention the sex."

Julie, who promised me that she wasn't typically this forthcoming unless she'd had a few (which she had, in this case), was a very talented painter. She painted birds and landscapes, and had some solid sales on her record. I asked her if she wanted to meet up for lunch sometime, as friends.

Her reply was to ask me about a funny memory from my childhood. I told her about the Warriors, and the time that the principal had called our parents because we took over the girls' bathroom and wouldn't come out.

She laughed at that, so hard that she said, "Oh my God," and ran past me, towards the bathroom.

She emerged a few minutes later, saying that she hadn't seen any Warriors in there, and that she had to leave at once, but not before saying that she'd love to meet up for lunch sometime.

I called her twice over the following two weeks, and she never called back.

Out of the blue, a couple of months later, she called. "I didn't forget you. I was ending things with the boyfriend and then I had to move, but I remember how funny you were. I still have proof."

Her first two revelations distracted me enough to not ask her what she meant about "proof." I forgot about it until we finally did meet up at a coffee house.

While we were there, she again said, "You were hysterical at that party, and I still have physical evidence."

I took the bait.  "What evidence?"

She said, "I live close by.  You should come see."

I liked her, so I couldn't refuse.  We walked to her apartment and she invited me in.  Good so far.

I took a step or two inside and she told me to close my eyes.  I was in a pretty woman's apartment, so I did.

She left the room and came back, warning me to keep my eyes closed.

I could sense her standing in front of me, and then I felt something like a headband being affixed onto my head and pulled down, close to my eyes.  Something that smelled awful.  Really awful.

I opened my eyes right as she stepped back, and I removed the offending item from my head.

It was a pair of underwear.  White and pungent.

I threw it to the ground and stepped back, into her closed apartment door, at a loss for words.

She scooped them up and said, "They were from that painters' party.  I put them in my purse after I peed in them a little after you told me your bathroom story.  I forgot about them and just found them recently."

I said, "They belong in a washing machine, not on my head."

She said, "You don't think that's hysterical?  I forgot them!"

I said, "It's disgusting.  Why would you put them on my head?"

She stopped smiling.  "It's funny.  Hello?"  She shoved them towards my face again.  I found the doorknob and opened her door.

I didn't want to give up on her just yet, so I stayed there, in the threshold.  She said, "You'll be a fucking perv and sneak into a girls' bathroom, but you don't think this is funny?"

I said, "I did that when I was in second or third grade."

She held up her underwear and shook them.  "This is funny!  They were in my purse and I forgot about them!"

I paused for a few moments and said, "You're right.  It's funny."

I must not have been convincing enough, because she stepped back, gave me the finger, slammed her door, and locked it.

I don't care to know what she was on, but I think it's funny how something that I did way back in elementary school is still getting me into trouble today.