Fred hated some aspects of high school. One of them was going past the lockers where all the girls would stand and gossip. He had to go there for his afternoon classes, so that meant he had to go past Beatrice Wilson every day. Beatrice had nicknamed Fred "Ferret" for some reason, but now she was wearing her hair stacked up on her head, as was the fashion in the mid to late '60s, so he saw his chance.
"Hey, Ferret!" she yelled, and her friends giggled.
"What now, Beehive?" he responded, enjoying the play on both her name and her hairstyle.
"What did you call me?" she asked, apparently unaware that name calling could go both ways.
"Beehive!" Fred answered. What was she getting at? "Were those bees in your hair buzzing too loudly?"
"Listen, Ferret," Beatrice snapped. "You do not call me names, got it? If you do, you'll see my brother after school."
"Okay," said Fred. "My brother goes to this school, too, in case you forgot. We can all be there."
"Oh, you got to have your brother protect you, Ferret-face! You're afraid of a girl? What a wimp?"
"Your brother's a girl?" said Fred, wishing he had thought before he spoke.
"You're dead!" said Beatrice.
"You gonna sting me to death?" said Fred.
"Ugh," Beatrice growled.
After school, just off the school grounds, Beatrice and her brother met Fred and his brother for a shouting match. No punches were thrown, but neighbors did call the police. A squad car took Fred and his brother home, while another came and picked up Beatrice and her brother. One car followed the other into the street where both Fred's and Beatrice's families lived.
Fred's father was not happy when he learned of the incident, but at least no one got hurt, so nobody got in any trouble. Fred's uncle Chuck came by in the evening and talked to Fred about what to do with Beatrice.
"I can tell you how you can get her to leave you alone," said Uncle Chuck. "But it's kind of gross. But the grosser it is, the more effective it is. You won't like it, but she'll absolutely hate it. But it will work."
"What do I have to do?" asked Fred.
"Give her a great big fat juicy kiss."
"Yuck! I could never do that."
"Don't worry, she'll hate it more than you do. Make it last ten seconds. You'll have to count to twenty."
"Huh?"
"You'll be counting fast, so you have to go to twenty to make sure."
"Yuck!"
"And there's one more thing," said Uncle Chuck. "You have to stick your tongue in her mouth about halfway through."
"Halfway through her mouth?"
"No, no. Halfway through the kiss. Look," said Uncle Chuck, "just count to ten, stick your tongue in her mouth--that will take up eleven and twelve--then continue on with thriteen through twenty. Then she'll leave you alone."
Fred didn't look forward to the next day, but it was Friday, so if things went wrong, he'd at least have the weekend to get over it. He saw the beehive outside her locker just before lunch, and debated with himself whether to give her the big kiss. Uncle Chuck was a pretty good guy, but still...
"Hey, Ferret, where's your brother to protect you from me?"
I've had enough of you, thought Fred.
He grabbed her shoulders and bent over, realizing how short she was (the beehive hairdo made her look a lot taller), and planted his lips on hers. He began to count to himself.
Beatrice was surprised at the kiss, and angry. What in the world--why, he must be--his tongue in mine--that is so gross--do it this way--no, go around, like--that's it--that's all? He pulled away, but she grabbed his head and pulled his lips back onto hers.
Fred wasn't prepared for this. She liked the way he was kissing her? What was all this about? She hated him, didn't she? He stuck his tongue in her mouth again just to see what she would do. He took his hands off her shoulders and rested them on her back. Oh, my gosh, he thought. She likes this.
Two years later, they were married, and a year after that, your mom was born. Now, do you want to hear the story again?