Bonehead’s trusty laptop was zapped with the dreaded rogue Anti-virus malware this past Saturday.  That really sucked – but I seem to have destroyed, or at least delayed the culprit long enough to bore you with yet…

ANOTHER BONEHEAD BACKSTORY!

Let’s take a walk back before any of us got the keys to the Dodge Coronet wagon, or any other vehicle for that matter.

We were probably 17, and it was the middle of a very cold Long Island winter. It was a Saturday night, and it was without question the coldest night any of us had ever experienced. Well below zero, hefty wind chill, and two days out from a serious ice storm. It felt like your typical April Thursday afternoon in Minnesota .

We were doing what we typically did on a Saturday night – hanging at Bernie’s, in the basement, because that was where the beer was. There was no doubt plenty of items in addition to the beer that evening, I recall some Brandy  being consumed, put into use because of its apparent “warming” qualities.

These days we’re given plenty of distractions to fend off the boredom a cold Saturday night stuck inside can bring. We can cruise the internet for old Hawkwind  videos or blog to the world whatever shit our brain can conjure up. We can order pretty much any movie we’d like right off the TV. We can make a phone call that magically turns into Chinese Food, Burritos or Pizza less than thirty minutes later. Way back when I was but a wee bone, these things were not available to us. So we had to make our own fun.

This particular Saturday night, we decided our fun needed to include ice cream. Never mind the fact that it was about a hundred degrees below zero and the wind could have knocked over an elk. Never mind the fact that we didn’t have driver’s licenses or a car. We wanted some fudge swirl ice cream, damned be the cold! Amazing the things you can consider to be a good idea when you’re stoned.

So it’s about 10:30pm. Friendly’s Ice Cream Shop is a little less than a mile up on Hawkins Avenue – the swingin-est strip in Lake Ronkonkoma. They’re open till 1am on Saturday nights – we should go. We bundle up in our warmest late 70’s parkas , hats, scarves, gloves. Actually, we were pretty wasted, so I’d venture to say some of us had lost our mittens and relied solely on stuffing our stupid hands in our pockets.

Risking serious frostbite, nasty colds, and quite possibly, death, we venture out with a mission. We’re off to fulfill our incessant munchie needs – with a couple of double chocolate Fribbles, a Jim Dandy sundae  or two, and some waffle cones heavily laden with mint chocolate chip ice cream.

The roads were rather quiet on this freezing, dangerous night. Most people employed the part of their brain that told them to stay inside. Not a problem for us as we left ours behind when we walked out into the arctic blast. About sixteen feet into the walk we realized this might just be a stupid idea. But we ventured on undeterred – for delicious ice cream treats awaited us just up the road.

It was so cold, our spit was freezing.

Yet we persevered and arrived shivering at our destination, just past 11pm. We walk into the restaurant, it’s open but empty. The manager and the one worker are sitting at a front table. They appeared to be startled by our arrival. We asked to be seated, but they were closing early and had already cleaned the dining room, so we had to take our ice cream to go. They actually asked if we really wanted ice cream. Maybe a nice cup of soup? Some hot chocolate? A brain?

Driven by the quest – we kept to our word – and ordered ice cream to go. All of us opted for cones, so we could keep one hand in our pockets during the walk home, while the other held the yummy treat.

Since there was no line, as other people in town realized that it would be pretty fucking stupid to head out for ice cream on such a dangerously cold evening, we barely had more than a couple of minutes to thaw out before it was time to head back to Bernie’s basement. So back out into the cold night, but now we have ice cream cones, so all is right with the world. Our world anyway.

We’re laughing and chuckling and freezing as we’re walking down Hawkins Avenue. We think about the occasional car that passes by and how ridiculous we must look to those inside the warm vehicle. Walking along with ice cream cones, they’re so crazy!

Being a little older now – the first thoughts that would probably cross my mind had I seen four similarly stupid teenagers might include descriptive terms such as “assholes” “schmucks” and “fucktards” but at the same time I might also be so inclined as to pull over and offer the oblivious fools a ride so as to stem the pneumonia that was certain to befell them.
Nobody did offer us a ride that night, so we were all able to finish our cones before we got back. Sure we were frozen solid, but we had completed the mission and someday one of us Boneheads would share the tale for all to rejoice in our glorious victory.

So there you go.