by: Rick Johnson 
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717
RikJohnson@juno.com
These are, without a doubt, my favorite series. I must warn you though, some are biographical, some auto-biographical and some pure fantasy. I leave it to the reader to decide which is which.
CONTENTS- For reasons known to myself only, I gave these
stories numbers instead of names. There are almost 2 dozen so far.
Return to Part 6-9
Story X
Story XI
Story XII
Story XIII
Go on to Part 14-17
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X
My student and I were at the NCO Club one evening when after a few too many
glasses of White Zinfindel, we came up with this plan.
As plans go, it wasn't t too imaginative, but we were too drunk to know better so
we snuck over to the CE building stripped naked and xeroxed our entire bodies in
sections. After all, you can't fit your whole body on a xerox machine.
We then took the personal parts and re-xeroxed them at 200% over and over again
until they were ... more than pleasantly endowed. Next came the difficult part. We
carefully cut out those expanded parts and glued them to the master xerox and xeroxed
that one so that it looked as if we were as large as we claimed.
Then we went to a back room and outlined ourselves on the wall and glued only
one foot to the outline and left a note saying words to the effect that more would follow.
The next morning we arrived with monumental hangovers and noticed that our
puzzle-poster was the talk of the Unit. We were, by then, sober enough to realize what
kind of trouble we could get into but decided to keep it up anyway. So a couple of days
later we returned to the scene of the crime and added our necks with Pentacle necklaces
and a note saying something like "Aren't you curious about what a Witch really looks
like?"
And for the next month we would sneak in every few days and add a part, leaving
the faces for last. When the genetilia appeared, and we did a good job there, even the
women in the front office began to take breaks there.
Finally the last day arrived. Our complete, naked bodies in all their glory and ...
dishonesty were on the wall save for our faces. People lined up each morning to see who
these giants were. I even noticed that women would check out the men and guess who
that was while the men, of course, lay bets as to who was the woman. No one suspected
the truth.
Because of the interest, it was difficult to sneak in for the final parts. Some
women were talking about wanting to date "me" while others plainly stated that they may
like to look but would die before being 'touched' by that man. The men were
considerably more graphic about what they would like to do with the woman. All wanted
to know and the bets flew.
Then that morning they saw the last piece. We had placed an ordinary piece of
typewriter paper in the places where our faces were supposed to go. And upon this paper
was the line,
"SORRY, WENT PCS. CATCH US AT OUR NEW BASE."
p.s. PCS means that we transferred to another base and would no longer be around.
Return to the Contents
XI
I had taken my student to Mexico to see the pyramids as she, nor for that matter,
neither had I seen them. True, we both had seen the ones in Egypt, I during a military
exercise in Egypt where we assisted the Egyptian army train with the Israeli army, and
she when her father, ( a rich Indian from Oklahoma) had sent her over to, as he put it,
"Get this Wicca stuff out of your system and come home to learn the ways of your fathers
People." But we wanted to see how the Mexican ones compared to the more famous
giants on the other side of the planet.
The pyramids were impressive and after a day of climbing up and down the
thousands of stairs we stopped into a nearby restaurant for dinner. She couldn't speak a
word of Spanish and I as a native Arizonan could speak some so I spent the time trying to
translate the menu for her. She really didn't like the tacos or burritos or other food that
we could get back home so she spent quite a bit of time trying to find something new and
different to eat.
Finally she smelled something that struck her fancy and looked to the people in
the next table who had just been served what looked like a cross between a baked apple
and a giant meatball. She asked the waiter what they were and he replied, "Cajones,
senorita." She asked me what that meant and I relied, "We call them Mountain Oysters."
"I didn't know oysters grew in the mountains?"
I finally had to explain to her that they were testicles that were baked after
castrating the young bulls. In the west we considered them a delicacy, though being one
generation from a ranch hand, my father enlisting in the Air Force so he could drop the
life of a cowboy, I had never found the courage to eat them.
"You who make a point of eating the strangest food in the world when you travel,
balk at a testicle!" she laughed. "I've nibbled on them when still attached to the owner so
I think I'd like to try one cooked. And so she ordered a plate of cajones.
Unfortunately, the waiter explained, cajones were only offered after a bullfight
and must be reserved in advance. And as the next fight was tomorrow she was welcome
to do so.
The next afternoon we returned to the restaurant and my student was ready and
eager to taste her meal. She was so excited that I almost regretted not taking her up to
the family ranch just so that I could reap the benefits of the act.
But when the waiter placed her order before he she hit the ceiling. "What the
**** do you mean giving me this ****! Yesterday the cajones were the size of apples and
these are smaller than a grape! I demand to see the manager!"
The manager arrived, calmed her down and when asked why yesterdays cajones
were so large and todays were so small, the manager calmly replied, "Senorita, the bull
does not always loose."
Return to the Contents
XII
My student and I had gotten off to a bad start when we first met at the home of a
mutual friend. She was Cheroke Indian and my family was cowboy pioneer, and to make
matters worse, I felt no guilt for my ancestors doing to her people what the Indians did to
each other, only my family was more successful. Besides, I am not responsible for
anything that someone else does.
Well, when this topic came up, the woman swore me out in her native language
but as I had been sworn out in half the languages in the world, this didn't bother me at all.
I never saw her again until some six months later when our mutual friend told me
that her house was haunted and she had tried the local Indian shamans and even tried the
xian churches all to no avail. As a last resort, she was willing to try me.
I came over, checked to place, made a few recommendations and the problem was
resolved with me collecting a nice fee. In other words, I requested a flint knife from her
father's tribe as a payment.
She thought about this and realized that I was the only person who didn't ask for
money or her body and was the only person who accepted the haunting as a natural act,
and even solved the problem, so she came over and asked to learn Wicca. Nine months
later, after a few long-distance phone calls to her father who insisted that if she wanted to
be religious she should come home and learn the Indian ways, she asked to be Initiated as
a Witch. We then continued a long and mutually profitable career as a partnership.
Her first Beltane Sabbat was a shock to her. She was no virgin but even so the
sight of a real Maypole was ... different and still she enjoyed the fertility Sabbat even
though she wasn't certain how to act around a bunch of naked people acting like children
and playing games on each other. After all, Sabbats are a celebration of Nature and
should be fun.
Afterwards, we held our own private celebration and as the theme of the year was
fertility, life, and unbridled sexuality, things did get a bit out of hand. Throughout the ...
act ... itself, she kept yelling something that sounded like, "Wahoop!" which I took to be a
compliment and made every effort to outdo myself.
She was distant after the rite so I invited her to miniature golf the next day as a
peace offering. After all, I reasoned, she was a sports freak. The game was fun and she
warmed up easily and quickly since, like her father, she was subject to strong mood
swings. Then on the 8th hole she managed a particularly difficult hole-in-one. I decided
to compliment her and also to try out one of my new words that she had inadvertently
taught me so I clapped and yelled out, "Wahoop!"
She immediatly stopped, turned to me and demanded. "What do you mean,
'Wrong hole!'?"
Return to the Contents
XIII
I had been invited to an Initiation in Phoenix one day and decided to take my
student along in order to show her what another Tradition did in this situation. The rite
was interesting, though different from what we were used to but that was to be expected.
Unfortunately, when my Uncle heard that I was in town, he insisted that I spend the night
with him.
I tried to explain that I had a guest of the female persuasion to whom I was not
married, having left my wife and kids back home for the weekend, and that though our
relationship was platonic, she was Wiccan, as was I, and he and his family may be ...
uncomfortable with us there.
But he insisted that we both visit as he had plenty of room for each of us to have a
separate bedroom. So, after the feasting part of the rite, we said our good-byes, promised
to drop by the next day and left for my Uncle's house in Mesa.
Now Mesa is mormon-town in Arizona. When the Mormons came here they
started their own city so that they could push their own laws through without having to
argue with the christians or Indians. Thus, there were few people of other faiths there at
that time and even fewer Witches. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable with all those
saints present but, he was my Uncle so what could I do.
My family has always been agnostic to pantheistic. My father always said that
whenever he needed to talk to god he would go to his favorite fishing hole, turn off the
radio and listen to nature speak for god. I guess that with that upbringing it was only
natural for me to join a nature religion like Witchcraft. But my Uncle loved my aunt
more than she loved him because she refused to marry him unless he became a mormon
and he considered her so important that he acceded to her wishes and settled down to a
life of a dozen kids and three jobs to feed them. Most of my family avoided him from
that time on because of their constant attempts to convert the rest of the family. And
there are few things more stubborn than a pioneer Scandinavian people (my great-
grandfather having been a Barbary Coast pirate and move here to ecape the law). But I
argued back and being half Irish, I loved the arguments about religion, kids, and
survivalism. I suppose that this invitation was a combination of me being the only
member of the family that would be willing to make a special trip to visit and their need
to convert a heretic. Besides, I can be a pleasant companion when I want.
So the evening discussion went up and down. At dinner my Uncle insisted on
doing his prayer to jesus and my student and I insisted on doing a medieval blessing to
the Goddess. My Uncle commented on survival after the end of the world and the need
to hoard supplies and weapons, and I mentioned that I didn't need to spend time, money
and space for that stuff as I had one rifle, a magazine of hollow-points and a map to the
local mormon's homes. They commented on my student's appearance (she being a hippie
who never gave it up) and how all hippies tried to look different by dressing alike and she
responded that that was big talk from a family and religion who all wore white shirts,
dark pants and skinny ties.
Later on during one of our breathers when I was sorely tempted to get a beer (my
family can easily drive one to drink, I guess that it was the Irish in me) I came across my
cousin in the bathroom 'abusing himself'. Now, as a Witch I feel that anything that gives
pleasure and harms no one is OK, but I knew that my mormon family did not share this
enlightened attitude and would label him as a sinner and a pervert. Besides, being
married to a catholic, I often had to resort to the same thing. So I went to my Uncle and
told him that it was time to get that kid a wife. He agreed but as Dyslexia ran like
wildfire in our family, he was having some trouble finding a family that would be willing
to marry into ours. I said that I'd look around as well and took my student aside. We
went to the nearby apple orchard and did a love spell for him and the next day he met and
proceeded to date a nice mormon girl. True, he still played with himself regularly but I
figured that as long as he did it in private and his family never found out, I had no right to
stop him. Though I did buy him some aloe vera hand lotion and a box of Kleenex.
The wedding was the next month and as it was in the temple I wasn't invited. But
I did attend the reception and had a good time. I will say, those mormons may be crazy
but they sure know how to eat. I had to diet to overcome the meals I ate. Even my kids
were full.
There was only one problem there (even my wife was nice to my student that
day), and that was based on my family's notorious lack of fertility and my cousin's
inability to do god's will and knock up his wife. I was the only one in the family who
never had trouble getting a woman pregnant. Sometimes it would happen to women to
whom I was never intimate. One of my neighbors even commented on it to me one day,
"I take every precaution possible and all I have to do is talk to you and I get pregnant.
You and that fuckin' fertility religion of yours"'
Well some months later I visited at a family reunion and saw my cousin sneak
into the bathroom. I followed to harass him about some stupid subject and caught him,
once again, playing with 'rosie palm and her five daughters.
I said to him, "I thought that we got you married so you wouldn't have to do that
anymore?"
To which he respond "Well, yes, but her hand gets so tired."
Return to the Contents
Return to Part 6-10
Go on to Part 18-?
To contact me or to request topics to be covered, send to RikJohnson@juno.com
by: Rick Johnson 
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717
Return to the Home Page.
Return to the Humor page.
