Pretty In Pink: YOU NOT SUPPOTO SEE DAT!!!

When Jethro and I were first dating, he was in his last year of college and living with three roommates. They were all a little strange, but Hung To was definitely the strangest. He was a little fellow, aged 19, but literally looked about 10 or 12. The mere sight of him behind a steering wheel was enough to scare the bejeezus out of you. He was Asian (of course) had lived in France for most of his life, but spoke English with the worst accent you have ever heard. I spent hours with him trying to help him say his L's and R's correctly, just for my own amusement. He could say them correctly, but he always, without fail, mixed them up. To this day, I can't figure out why they are mixed up so easily by Asian folks. He was so dyslexic about it that I finally told him just to reverse the letters in his head. Every time a word was spelled with an r, he was to think l and vice versa. This approach was marginally more successful.

I do digress, however.

Hung was a perverted little shit, but he worshipped Jethro with a devotion that can only be understood by small Asian men who have hero-worshipped taller Asian men with girlfriends who were putting out.

And all his hero worship didn't prevent him from trying to catch Jethro and I in the act. He was devoted to this mission. Jeth and I would close the door to the bedroom and lock it and hear the little "scritch scratches" of him trying to pick the lock. On one particularly disgusting occasion, we heard a zipper unzipping. Actually, that was pretty funny.

One night, Jethro and I were in the room, and we heard Hung outside the door.

"Make some moaning noises," said the intrepid hero.

"Oh God, oh God, right there, OOOOOO, oh Jethro, yes, yes......"

Jethro tiptoed to the door and flung it wide. Hung practically somersaulted into the room, grinning adoringly at Jethro with his little hand in his little pants.

Gross, but really funny especially in the retelling.

I paid him back though.

One afternoon, I was off of work and Hung and I were alone in the apartment. Pretty in Pink was on tv, so Hung and I watched it together.

Now if there is anything I took away from Pretty In Pink, it is that it was a totally innocuous movie. The plot was minimal, the characters shallow, and it was oh-so-dated. The last scene in the movie is a rather chaste kiss between Molly Ringwald and Andrew McCarthy. Nothing to write home about.

The movie ended, and Hung tore out of the room.

"Weird little fucker," I thought.

I headed down the hall to the bedroom, and there I saw. Hung had flung himself on his bed, and covered both himself and what appeared to be a hummingbird, with his blanket.

"What the....?"

The "hummingbird" was moving faster than I had ever seen one move. Hung's eyes were closed and there was a pained expression on his face.

He isn't. He COULDN'T BE. He IS. Oh geez.

"HUNG! What the hell are you doing?"

The hummingbird activity ceased abruptly. Hung sat straight up in bed.

"OH! YOU NOT SUPPOTO SEE DAT!"

"Well then shut the goddam door!"