Moonwalkin' with the Coreys



Under cover of night the two Coreys pranced down the street, with a few mates in tow and a couple of girls to provide the giggling soundtrack. These girls were called Marcia and Cynthia and rarely said anything apart from "Eww!" and "Grosserino!" so who knew what sensitive, poetic souls they were hiding. The Coreys certainly didn't but they did know that they both had nice racks and quite good shelves and so had determined to cut some funky moves upon them before the night was through.

The only problem was getting rid of Fruito and Gerkwein, their aforementioned pals. They quietly discussed their plan while despairingly watching the success with which Fruito was impressing the girls by rolling up his sleeve and flexing his muscle and Gerkwein was similarly seducing them with his tale of telling off 'Hairy-nose Harrison', their unfashionable science teacher.

"So I says to him, sir, I says, sir, you would not know this beaker from your ass!" he said, meeting with the approval he was seeking.
"Man, we gotta ditch these geeks and get some action!" Corey suggested, but how was this to be done?
"Hey Gerks!" called Corey suddenly. "Isn't that Muscle and Tuff's car?" Gerkwein dropped his cool exterior, grabbed Fruito and they made a hasty exit, knocking over some trash cans on their way to add a humourous touch. The afternoon before Gerkwein and Fruito had been overheard saying some disparaging things about the paint job on the school bullies' car and had been fearing a beating ever since.

This unexpectedly easy victory filled the Coreys with pluck and they each took a bewildered chick by the arm.
"What's with them?" asked Marcia.
"Don't worry about those freakazoids, ladies, my associate and I are going to show you a good time to-nite!" declared Corey sophisticatedly and flicked a cigarette into his mouth while the girls snickered appreciatively.
"Marcia," said Corey in a sensitive tone. "Is it my imagination or have you been feeling a little down, lately?"
"Well, sure, my parents are being total zombies!"
"Aah," replied Corey concernedly, "Well, at least you have parents that love you." he kicked a pebble half-heartedly. As he had hoped, Marcia's heart went out to him.
"Are you like an orphan or something?" she asked.
Corey stared at the moon for a moment and sighed, "something like that," he replied mysteriously.

The other Corey was trying a different tack with Cynthia.
"You know, I've never really talked to you before, 'cause I felt kinda shy," he said, "but I just wanted to ask you, cause I think you're so beautiful.....could I maybe hold your hand?" Cynthia consented, charmed.

Meanwhile, Marcia was grilling Corey with no success.
"Look, Marcia, maybe one day I can tell you the whole story but for now I'll just tell you that it's been hard, damn hard," Marcia put her arm around his shoulders and he gained confidence.
"And I ain't talkin' about my life, baby!"
"Ewww!" cried Marcia and marched off.
"C'mon Marcia, everyone says you're supposed to be easy!" he pleaded but this time the charm failed and she merely gathered her leather jacket around her more closely and was gone with a shake of fringing.

He looked ahead to where his buddy seemed to be making more progress.
"Cynthia, I always thought you were kinda out of my league or somethin' cause you're so smart and talented and all."
"Oh Corey," she simpered.
"You know, I've never told anyone this before cause I thought they'd laugh at me, especially a chick, ah, a lovely lady,"
"You can tell me anything, Cor'" Cynthia said.
"Well, sometimes I like to write poetry."
"Poetry?" Cynthia replied a little too loudly.
"Yeah, you know about nature and girls and all that."
"Poetry? man, you are a lo-ser!" she said and scornfully folded her arms. "I am out of here!" and with that she ran off in the direction of Marcia.

The two Coreys rejoined.
"Chicks, huh?" philosophised one.
"Yeah", replied the other, adding "Is it true that you write poetry, dude?"
"Buy a clue, man, do I look like a nerd?" he replied, and put the sonnet he had written for Cynthia, titled 'Your body is hot' back in his boot. Now there was nothing to do but go to the old caryard, lie on top of a car and stare at the stars, sharing a cancer-stick and speculating upon the mystery of how to get a bit of action.


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