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    No Girls Allowed
    No Girls Allowed
    No Girls Allowed
    Ebook135 pages4 hours

    No Girls Allowed

    By C K Blair

    ()

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    About this ebook

    “One thing I knew for sure, she did have a disease but it was something no boy stood a chance against. No matter how timid she seemed to be, Lisa was still a girl.”
    Growing up in the midwestern town of Hessville, Indiana in the early 60's, Kevin Blair is learning not so quickly that the girls around him are not all they seem to be. From budding fashion designer cousins in search of the perfect model to a classmate in search of a special ring, he finds himself in one disaster after another. When the onset of puberty strikes it doesn't help much either, leaving him at the mercy of all things feminine and his naive view of the world; a cross between Curious George and Godzilla.
    "If I would’ve had the common sense of say, a sixth grader, I might have suspected there was more to this, especially after the ... fiasco, but I was also dealing with my arch nemesis, a girl, and a sixth grade girl at that."
    ‘No Girls Allowed’ is a humorous recollection of the events that made growing up in the Sixties so unforgettable.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherC K Blair
    Release dateMay 17, 2014
    ISBN9781310006272
    No Girls Allowed
    Author

    C K Blair

    C K Blair is a retired forestry worker with published poetry in anthologies and magazines such as Moving Mountain and The Midnight Edition.

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      Book preview

      No Girls Allowed - C K Blair

      No Girls Allowed

      A Memoir

      By C. K. Blair

      Copyright 2013 C. K. Blair

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.

      Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      About C. K. Blair

      Other books by C. K. Blair

      Chapter One

      Rosa Mendoza, remember that name because there will be a quiz on her later. Only for you, there will probably be another girl’s name associated with it. You know, THAT girl, the one who was your best friend and your worst enemy growing up.

      Our neighborhood had twelve boys, me included, and one girl: Rosa. She was a year older than me, and since almost everyone else was older than us, we were playmates.

      Rosa was nearly an only child. Her two brothers were already in college, giving her full run of her house. I might say she was a bit spoiled, but that would be putting it mildly.

      While I made boats out of tree branches and popsicle sticks for my one-armed second-hand G.I. Joe, she had a full flotilla of vessels, mostly pink and purple plastic yachts, complete with a Captain, crew and a dinghy, for her parade of brand new Barbies. Whenever she found herself stranded in a mud puddle, rather than risk getting her Buster Browns wet, her father would call the Coast Guard, and soon a helicopter would hover overhead and rescue the boat from imminent peril.

      Yep, she was that kind of girl, and what was worse, she knew it.

      When I was four, Rosa decided she wanted to see how boys pee and made me a deal: I could watch her if she could watch me. We ventured over to my Grandma’s chicken coop, and I confidently whipped out my pecker spraying the wall with a golden stream while she watched in sheer delight; her eyes as big as hen's eggs.

      Keeping to her part of the bargain, she stood up, pulled up her pink flowered dress then down went her matching pink flowered panties. She squatted above the floor and let her own golden stream splash against the floor of the chicken coop, rivulets of bright yellow pee mixing with the white and black piles of chicken poop.

      I watched in utter amazement. So dazzled by the sight was I, that when the coop suddenly became filled with light, I convinced myself that the Gods of Boyhood were making an appearance, no doubt approving my sojourn into manhood as my maiden displayed her wares. What really happened was that Grandma had come to see what the two little ruffians were doing in her chicken coop and was met with the sight of Rosa pissing all over my new Red Ball Jets. She grabbed me by an ear and marched me to the basement sink for a ceremony I knew all too well: a good mouth of soap, the universal Grandma-Cure-All.

      Usually, I was given a choice in the selection of flavors but apparently, learning how a girl pees deserved the richer, more pungent green Lava bar, rather than the mild sweet scent of Ivory. It was stippled with its little specks of sand that were sure to make a point.

      Grandma called her parents and told them the whole story. We were separated with the understanding that we were not to ever do that again.

      The next day while I sat in my room peering out the window, Rosa could be seen in her front yard playing with Barbie number thirteen, who was behind the wheel of a bright, pink plastic Corvette.

      See? Now you know who I am talking about.

      Chapter Two

      Rosa wasn't the only girl who tortured me. I was also graced by the Gods to have three cousins, Terry Lynn, Sandra Rae, and Lucinda Mae. Terry was the oldest at twelve, followed by Sandra at ten, and then Lucinda, who was six.

      One fine summer’s day when I was five, their mother Aunt Norma decided to pay us a visit. While she and Mom exited to the backyard to chat, the three Mouseketeers were told to stay inside and find something to do.

      Lucinda Mae had brought her trunk full of Barbies and asked if my G.I Joe was available to play.

      Terry Lynn looked over at Sandra Rae, winked and remarked:

      I wish we had a doll to dress up.

      After a thirty minute tag team wrestling match that would have made Bruiser and Crusher look like a couple of amateurs, I was decked out in a pair of my mom's four-inch red leather pumps, a green print skirt with matching blouse, nylons and a garter.

      What they lacked in fashion sense was made up for with my lips being painted a brilliant red to match the shoes and a bright green eye shadow framing luxuriant two-inch eyelashes that were meshed to my lids with Elmer's glue. The final touch was a pink rouge smeared over my cheeks to give me that blushing bride effect, all topped off with a red wig, pearls and mom's favorite gold watch. I looked like a cross between Tammy Faye Baker and Bozo the Clown; if a Baptist preacher had been in the room he wouldn't have been able to keep his hands off of me.

      Ready for the runway, I was arm locked by the older girls and paraded around the room to the Oooh's! and Aaah's! of Lucinda Mae and the WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?! of Dad home early from work. The girls shrieked and headed for the back door while I stood there in all my glory, with Dad looking down at me, and me looking down at the red pumps.

      Chapter Three

      There are two great things about being grounded: imagination and books.

      In our house, the library was just outside my bedroom door, five wide shelves stocked with all manners of reading: encyclopedia, dictionaries, novels and magazines, fiction and non-fiction books alike. Sometimes, depending on the deed, my toys would be summarily boxed and placed downstairs out of my reach, but books, never. Somehow, Dad thought they were a punishment for me and I didn't dare tell him otherwise.

      After one particular episode where Rosa decided that I resembled Dr. Kildare, and by god, only Dr. Kildare was worthy enough to deliver her baby, my toys were boxed and taken to the basement. The baby, by the way, was a girl who looked just like Barbie, go figure.

      I was confined to my room once again. Armed this time with a copy of ‘Gulliver's Travels’, I sailed around the world. Then on to ‘Treasure Island’, where I joined Blackbeard’s crew to plunder ships and bury the treasure on remote islands with the thought of its retrieval once we were free of our pursuers; the Royal Navy.

      At week’s end, a picture book of the Wright Brothers filled my gullet and soon I was flying out of my room crossing the

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