“Father, I have a confession to make.”
“What is it, my son?”
Cindy looked great in her mauve-cardigan sweater, beige knee-length dress and blonde hair pulled up on either side of her head, with the long-back part pulled over her left should. This was David and hers first date, and as she ran out to the car from her house, David was incredulous that he had waited this long to ask her out. He thought she looked pretty hot, in her conservative sort of way.
They had known each other for maybe seven years, ever since fourth grade. He knew a little about her, what you pick up from just being in the same class as someone for a couple of years. Now that they were going into the eleventh grade and David had finally gotten his drivers license, he had made a stab at asking the cute but shy girl out.
“I-I’m not catholic. D-d-does that make a difference?”
“No. You can always make confessions to me. Are you uncomfortable with confessing to me? Would you like me to call someone from your church?”
“I-I don’t really don’t go to church.”
“Then, if you would like to confess to me, that is fine. How can I help you?”
David had it all planned out. They would take in a small dinner and the latest movie. He knew it was not much for a first date, but then neither was his income. David had figured that he could use the local drive-in to economize the date, that costing as a car than going to the cineplex and shelling out a load of money for the both of them.
The date was going smoothly. He had managed to get through dinner without inhaling his food, although he thought she might have been a little less impressed with him eating the rest of her food and going back for seconds for himself.
But at the drive-in, those past transgressions seemed to not have been as monumental as he perceived them. They had started holding hands about a quarter way through the movie, but David was at a loss as how to get around the stick-shift and emergency brake that had, up to this point, defeated any attempts of his to cuddle a little closer to Cindy.
Wait a minute. This is a bad story. No vibes, no vibes what-so-ever. In describing it to my wife, it sounds more like a bad joke. A catholic priest, a boy and a girl all show up in a short story. And this kid is already going through enough of a nightmare, trying to impress a teenage girl without the nightmare of finding out she is a werewolf who is going to make her first appearance due to the emotional stressors he is about to put her through. All SHE wanted to do is watch a good movie and eat a good dinner without the added pressure of being asked to put out in some way. So I guess that he deserves what he is about to get when he puts the moves on and tries to get a little make-out time. Especially during a chick-flick, which is what he unwittingly chose. He has his friends to thank for that. Good job, guys. And is his old man going to be peeved when he finds out what happened to the car. “You burned my car to the rims?!?!?!? What in the world were you thinking?!?!?!? I loan you the car for one night, and all you manage to bring back was the door-handle? Where on God’s green earth are the keys? You set the car on fire, leave the keys inside, and rip off the door handle? Are you trying to drive your old-man to drink? And don’t forget, that’s the only thing you’ll be driving for a while! Good lord! Where’s that bottle of Jack?”
No way this kid is talking to the priest. He's at the local Marine recruiters office. He’s outta here.