The Love Shack

The love shack was a crappy beach apartment that three guys I worked with on the party boats rented for 3 or 4 summers in a row.

A couple redeeming qualities that it had were that it was walking distance to the pier (always a plus on those "late" nights) and it was located right on the Hampton Beach strip. Well, as close to the front of the strip as possible.

The strip is basically a 2-mile, 2 lane, one-way oval and we were right near the turnaround. The traffic would get backed up in front of the house every weekend as well a few weekdays to boot.

Well, as you can imagine, we did some interesting stuff there. There were usually a minimum of 5 drunken boobs present at any given moment and sometimes there would even be some real boobs there. Not often, but occasionally.

I thought that I would share a few of the better "moments" that we had over the years.

One of the times that stick out in particular was when Mike (one of the renters and the supposed older, responsible one at the ripe old age of 22) purchased a water balloon launcher. It was one of those big ones that need you need three guys to use. Of course for safety's sake, we test fired it a few times before too many witnesses....err, I mean people were around and then waited for the right moment the unleash the beast.

That right moment came, of course, after the first case of beer had been destroyed one evening. We started off innocently enough by launching some over the house behind us to the backed up traffic and numerous pedestrians about 150 feet away on the front of the strip. The best part is that we were close enough to hear the people getting nailed, along with the subsequent yelling, but far enough away that there was no way they could see where it came from.

After a couple of psychotic, soaking wet guys came looking for..."Those frickin' assholes that we's gunna kill!"

Me- (pointing down the street) must've been those guys a few houses down, those college pricks

.... we took a bit of a break.

Then the traffic backed up.

Someone (wasn't me.... it never is) thought that it would be funny to fill the balloons up with beer and milk and then start firing again. Except this time while we were setting up, my friend Joe got my attention before anything had actually become airborne.

Well look at this.... Joe pointed down the street to a firebird with a t-top that looked an awful lot like this group of assholes that had been throwing shit at us every time that they cruised by all night long... for no reason, I might add. While we were slightly irked by this, we had no plans to go looking for them.

Then there they were. Stuck in traffic and only about 75 yards away.

What a target of opportunity!

After some quick discussion as to who was going to do the launching and who was going to give the coordinates, we got into position.

ready..

aim..

fire!

dammit, we missed! it hit the ground about 10 feet away

let's try again....

ready..

aim..

fire!



This one looked good right out of the launcher and I knew it would be close. It had a real nice arc to it and some decent velocity.

splat!!

That thing went right in through the t-top, hit the front dash and douched the shit out of them and their car.

It could very well be the greatest shot that I have ever seen. I probably couldn't have duplicated in 50 tries. Just complete, and total shit-luck.

I ended up laughing so hard I thought that I was having some sort of seizure.

The surprising part of the whole thing was that they never got out of the car. They swore in our general direction, but there were so many people around that I don't think they saw us do it. The traffic ended up moving anyways and they had to move their car. It's probably a good thing because I'm a big pussy and they most likely would have kicked my ass.

I don't know why, but we never saw them cruise by again that night.

Good times, good times.




Another thing that you never wanted to do while at the Love Shack was fall asleep (some would argue that it was passing out) or you would end up getting something done to you. Not that, you pervs.

The last night that Mike was going to be with us, he passed out early. He was never much of a drinker.

After doing the usual stuff to him -- tie his leg to a chair with 30 feet of fishing line so he would fall as he was halfway down the stairs, put makeup all over his face, steal all of his clothes (he used to sleep in the nude, don't ask me how I know), etc-- we were bored.

It was then that I remembered that he had to get up early the next morning and take off immediately to make it in time for school in Mass. So, I figured that I would give him one more going away gift.... we would pack for him!

Knowing that the furniture wasn't his, we proceeded to take every piece of furniture that wasn't nailed down -- and some that were -- and piled them on his car anyways. We didn't think that we needed to tie anything down or stack it on any particular way, we just heaped the shit up.

The furniture that made it on the car consisted of two full sized couches, several lamps, two end tables, two small dressers, two beds (he was sleeping in the other), one easy chair w/ ottoman, one-kitchen table w/4 chairs, and the fridge. There were also some random items like clothes, trashcans, and a picnic table that we found in the neighbor's yard out back thrown in for good measure.

The fridge ended up being the hardest, not because we had to drag it upstairs out onto the roof and set it kind of half-on-half-off of the car to keep everything from falling down, but because it was so heavy and threatened to cave in the roof of his car. But after some adjustments, all was well. The pile ended up about.... now, I’m guessing here....maybe 12 feet tall. I was standing on the apartment roof and it was about eye-level with me, so it might have been a little taller.

I thought that what we accomplished was an engineering marvel worthy of worldwide praise and possibly some prestigious awards.

Mike apparently didn't agree with me.

He left me, and only me, a nasty message before he left the next day. I believe that is consisted of ripping my spine out through my throat and sodomizing me with it, but I didn't pay too close attention. I don't know why he thought someone as innocent as I would do anything like that. And even if I were to do something like that, I sure as hell couldn't get the fridge on top of a pile that high without some help from....say, oh, I don't know, his brother.

The funniest part was driving to work the next morning and seeing the whole thing from about 1/2 mile away. As I got closer I could see a despondent Mike just sitting on the porch blankly staring at this pile of furniture where his car used to be. I made sure to look the other way when I passed so that my ear-to-ear grin wouldn't set him off like the incredible hulk, or something.

Thankfully, when I got in from the morning trip at noon he was gone.

All that was left was some scattered pieces of wood, a cracked kitchen table-top, one kitchen chair (bent) and an open fridge tipped over on its side with seagulls picking through the remnants.

I think that he might have been upset.

Ps- If I can find the picture, I'll post it