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June 10, 2011

My Quest: To Possess A Baby Huey Glass

Several fast food restaurants run promotions from time to time, where they emboss popular cartoon characters on drinking glasses, and then give away the glass as a promotional item when you buy a drink.

Someplace they had Baby Huey.  Is everyone familiar with B. Huey?

No, NOT Baby Huey the Rapper!


I meant the OTHER ONE. The FIRST one—

The Big Baby…Duck?

I wanted a glass with the likeness of Baby Huey painted on it!  I don’t know why. There is no   WHY    I just wanted one! (Kids….!)

I started talking about it. I asked around, but nobody had one. Nobody had ever seen one. Some people doubted the existence of any such thing as a Baby Huey drinking glass!

My initial curiosity birthed my desire; my desire created a deep need. A QUEST!             I looked for years to find one and had for the most part, given up all hope.

One evening I was invited by a couple of friends to go to a party. I think it was in Long Beach, and that was pretty far away. Sean and Jon and I went together in Sean’s car.  Jon was a heavy drinker, even for a seventeen year old. We were all seventeen. I have known some YOUNG but heavy drinkers. I did not know the extent of Jon’s consumption, but it was obviously his favorite hobby.  We drove about two hours to get there, and we did not know a single person there, although there were plenty of faces! The little upstairs condo was jammed with happy, laughing people. The main draw for me is always the kitchen when at a party.  There is always food, usually a chair, and well-lit. Optimum area for the laughing at, and telling of jokes!

Jon was blasted by the time we arrived, having apparently imbibed in secret in the backseat for the duration of the trip.  He advertised it, “I am so HIGH RIGHT NOW!” he gushed at people (that he didn’t know).

There was a keg, and there were several pitchers of beer being handed around. The pitchers were the typical standard of all kitchens. A couple of them were the plastic type used to serve ice tea. There were glass pitchers, and some that might’ve been pressed into service for Party Night, but were in reality a decoration.

One curious sort of beer pitcher sat right in front of me. It was a ceramic pottery type, with the head of a rooster on it.  The top part of the head was open, like the mouth of a pitcher. From what I could tell, the BEAK of the rooster was the pour spout.

Jon was busy telling a story. He was on his feet, gesturing wildly, telling some dumb anecdote about one of the other MANY times that he was as drunk as he was now.  He did not pause in his narration, but simply swooped down a gesturing limb, snatched up the rooster-head pitcher, and poured beer into his cup.

ATTEMPTED—to pour beer INTO his cup!  The beer was all over the floor and Jon’s shoes. He was too blitzed to notice.  He kept on with his story in slurring detail, and took a swig of his invisible beer.  Puzzled, he tried to pour more beer, which also—          ended up on the floor.  Jon was standing up, holding the pitcher in the air. I was sitting down at the table. From my vantage point, I had a beautiful view of the action. Jon must’ve tried to pour his beer nine times! Each time, he assumed that the beer would be coming out the TOP of the pitcher, when INSTEAD—the beer flowed through the BEAK of the rooster’s head. The beer was missing Jon’s glass by two inches.

It was fucking priceless.

I was laughing so hard that I thought I might actually injure myself! I could only repeat one short sentence, and so I said, “Look at it”

I thought, it is a HEAD. It has a BEAK…

Jon kept talking





Everyone at the table was ready to pee their pants. I think it was the homeowner, Sal, who finally called an end to our jolly fun by pointing out Jon’s error to him. Jon got mad that everyone was laughing (but not about his stupid story!). He slunk off somewhere to drink (more, again).

We bonded, me and my new group of party kitchen best friends! We had a lot of laughs. THIS IS MY WORLD!  THESE ARE MY PEOPLE!

During the course of our recourse, I noticed that someone had a character drinking glass. That inspired me to mention my Quest!  Sal, the man who lived there, stood up without a word. He went three steps to the cupboard and back, then in front of me he placed


I was amazed! I was thrilled! I was keeping it!  Sal said that was the idea.

After awhile, sitting, talking, laughing, drinking…it was way too much fun to last forever.  Sean came over later and hoarsely whispered in my ear, “When was the last time you saw Jon?”  Well, I guess it was right after we all—humiliated him. Yeah, that’s about right.

Sean and I started looking around the house, moving in and around large groups of people. We found Jon slumped down on the bathroom floor, with a line of people waiting for their turn.  Jon was crying in that slobbery, Nobody-loves-me, irritating way, that breeds NO sympathy in me. It is Drunk crying.

Jon was hurt. Jon was sad. Jon did not want to go on living. All of this I knew!  Then,  Jon took some pills he found in the cabinet…THAT’S not good! Sean and I liked these people and we were having a good time and making new friends. I had my Baby Huey Glass!  We both pleaded with Jon to simply behave himself like the good little gay boy that he was—and let us stay and play.

Sean said enticingly, “I wonder who those guys are that are lifting weights in the next room?”  Jon brightened at that. He wandered off to find out.

Sean and I exchanged a mutual smile of triumph and relief. Yay! Let’s go back to the joke table!

It was maybe an hour later that Jon came in, giggling behind his hand like a schoolgirl. Teehee hee! Come n see! Jon had a secret to share with us.  He wouldn’t go away and he wouldn’t QUIT bugging us, so finally Sean and I went to see what was so damn funny.

I left my glass on the table. I was coming right back.

Jon threaded us through the crowded hallway, giggling the whole time.  The pills had kicked in is what he told us. Sean and I nervously locked a panicked eye for a moment.

“WHAT have ya done, Jon?” Sean sort of whistled it through his clenched teeth.  “Oh, You’ll Seeeee,” answered Jon in a singsong voice.  He led the way down the hall, past the REALLY long line to the only bathroom…and on into the less populated weight room. There were a few shiny bodies in the room, gathered around the equipment. Pumping and primping in the mirrors.

Jon gestured over to the glass door which opened onto a small balcony.  Jon was doubled up, presumably facing rupture of mirth.  He could not utter complete sentences for a full three minutes.  Finally, he gestured off the balcony. In fits and breathy spurts, he told us what was up.

“I…” he spasmed.  Started again.  “I PEED” he said. He pointed over the balcony.

We were afraid to look. We then peeked quickly, as if we were standing on a dangerously slippery cliff.  Dangerous is right.

There was a cute little SPORTS CAR with its top down, directly below.  Apparently, from what we could get from Gasping Jonny—The line was too long at the bathroom so he looked for a place in which to relieve himself. Unbeknownst to his friends, Jon exchanged his earlier remark (“I’m So HIGH!”) to a different jingle (“I gotta piss like a RACECAR!”  I didn’t say he was smart.)

Sean is a quick thinker. So am I! We reached the conclusion simultaneously and conclusively, “THAT CAR BELONGS TO SOMEONE WHO IS IN THIS HOUSE RIGHT NOW!”

Discovery, humiliation…maybe even a huge beating may have been only seconds away.  Sean grabbed Jon by the scruff of his neck and we made a (careful thready) run for the front door.

I forgot Baby Huey!

The Quest continues to this day.

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