BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady <strong>227</strong> While there were five who remembered it, Bill Palmer, Bob Kendregan, me and two guys I can‟t recall, I‟m led to believe the delivery is equally important. Evidently the kids liked my way best, as I was almost always the one called on to recite it. The story was later plagiarized and made into a multi-million selling song, I believe in 1978, called “Stag-o-lee”. There‟s a history of it at www.stagoleeshotbilly.com, if you‟re interested. That said, I was called on, and I performed as requested, standing atop a huge fallen tree. I was about three feet off the ground, in the dark except for the bonfire we had going a few yards behind me. When I finished, I started mingling with the crowd, receiving praise for being able to remember it. Of course, what I hoped was to have some girl come up to praise me, whereupon I‟d steal a kiss and hope it led to an episode in the bushes, but not near any poison ivy. In a takeoff on what Mom used to say, “that‟s where hoped gets you”. What I attained was the fervent attention of a guy named Ken Carr, a man of age, as he was twenty-one. I was eighteen at the time, and I‟d bought beer for Ken, with a fee, for about three years before he turned old enough to buy it himself. Ken was about five- nine, one-fifty, average build. He had a reddened face and acne scars, but that wasn‟t totally unusual at his age. He was drunk as hell and had an idea. Lord, spare us these people with ideas, please? He‟d heard I was quite a decent boxer, he said, and wanted to congratulate me on being so good. I didn‟t see where that was relevant to anything, but I thanked him and tried to get away. There were still a couple of girls nearby, and I knew they were all VE, (Vaginally Equipped). I truly wanted to get laid, if at all possible. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 228 Ken wouldn‟t leave me alone. He kept on and on about my reputation as a boxer, then asked me if I‟d teach him to box right there, right now. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Why the hell would I do that, way out here at a party, in the freakin‟ dark, when we‟re drinking? Go sober up and see me some other time, okay? I wanna get laid, if I can, before all these girls haul ass.” No, he really wanted me to teach him. Kept insisting it wouldn‟t take long, and it would be a lot of fun. I was thinking about teaching him what it‟s like to feel a knockout punch when Ken went to Step #2 of his grand plan. He slapped my face. Hard. “Why not teach me slap boxing?” was his idea. Oh, joy. “Fuck off, Ken. I said I really wanna get laid, if I can.” He slapped my face again. Harder this time. Ya know, maybe that‟s not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. I waded into him, slap boxing, and if his cheeks weren‟t red when he showed up tonight, they sure as hell would be when he left. I slapped the piss out of him in a two minute flurry that left him with his arms crossed for protection over his head. Then I repeated my “get lost” instructions. Regrettably, Ken was now pissed off. In addition to the fact I really wanted to get laid, which now seemed to be an impossibility, that was another reason I didn‟t want to slap box a drunk out in the open air at a party. When I beat his ass, a foregone conclusion, what‟s to keep him from getting pissed off and taking a swing at me? his fist. Nothing, that‟s what. So, he did. The son-of-a-bitch hit me right on the chin with Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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