Teenage love, retconned

Freudian Remembrance Day is a popular day at the blog so what the hell. Was having lunch with some people from work and well, I´m not really sure how the story came into play but all of a sudden I was remembering a dream I had a week ago; there was this gorgeous green-eyed girl I knew back in High School [it´s always about girls we knew back in High School, isn´t it? Such is the power of Freudian Remembrance Day!] and she was a bit shy. No, she was *very* shy and there was simply no way I could get to her: Keeping up a conversation was a struggle. Making it last say, four minutes was a feat.
Then she moved closer to home, one tiny block away and I thought that was it, some superior conscience high above the clouds had rolled the dice for me, snake-eyes for the devil, the good guys were sooo gonna score.

The good guys didn´t.

The good guys didn´t and looking back in a “retroactive continuity” kind of way He-Man and the Masters Of The Universe were the ones to blame.
Retcon is the term used in comic books to explain, alter or further explore a previously-established event, for instance, when they were re-launching the Wonder Woman title back in the mid-80s the character had been completely re-booted. “So Wonder Woman´s story starts now,” that´s what it was said. “Forget everything that happened before”.
“But what about say, her adventures with the Justice League?,” asked the fans in distress.
“Aww, consider it as if the Black Canary [another super-heroine] had filled her place,” was the publisher´s answer.

Now, it happened way back in 1997 and I was 17 years old, it was one year later than the idyllic, ideal age for teenage love which is 16 in my book and in John Mellencamp´s songs and apparently to the morphogenetic field as well; and way too many years after He-Man had packed his bags and shoved it over his battle cat and wandered off into the sunset with GI Joe and all those ninjas-with-uzis flicks with Michael Dudikoff

This is how it happened, pre-The Wonder Woman reboot: After much much much effort- and we´re talking effort on an Herculean level here, “stamina of Atlas” and all that- I got her to invite me to check out her new place and of course we were all living with our parents back then but that never mattered to us at least not when we were 17 because once the living-room door had been opened and you were told to come in, it worked oh just like with Count Dracula- -
Milky-white skin and dark brown hair falling down in a pointy-tail, a frame to those thin ruby lips and green kryptonite eyes she was a statue in marble to us superboys, from her pedestal all access was denied.

I think her mom served us milk-shakes or something and that´s the beauty of teenage love, because as chocolate milk or cake is pouring down from all over, from ever-smiling mothers in blue aprons the kids can´t take their minds of their pretty daughters in jeans and sneakers.

High school was a haze, a maze, it went by so fast and its last year was a moment hanging in time, frozen and time had stopped but it went by so fast and all of a sudden it was a leap from chocolate shakes to graduation day and I think I never saw her again but I did, except that one time not too long ago, I was driving though my hometown past the old place where I lived with my parents then past her place then past herself, look, yes that was her. She was walking down the street, etc., I should have stopped but life had gone by so fast…

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That was the Pre-Wonder Woman reboot.
The Post-Wonder Woman reboot version went on like this; this was the dream I had about that girl about a week ago. This is the retcon with the MOTU which the post all about, at least before it became this topsy-turvy nightmare of spontaneous prose. Okay, what I mean is, if you were all for half-assed poignant memories for bygone High School days the text pretty much ends here.
What follows is our customary nonsense but I promise in the end it all comes together.

There is no beginning in a dream. You are drifting flying falling saying goodbye to the pillow and the little pool of drool on the bedsheet then it´s off so somewhere else and it´s 1997 all over again and boy, you´re dreaming.
A familiar place opens up before you, it´s the lobby of her building just past the heavy iron gate and (!) Kobra Khan is at your side, Skeletor´s snake-man henchman from the old 1980s He-Man cartoons and you he´s saying,

“No idea where everybody´s going tonight,” he says very matter-of-factly, and a conversation develops between the two of you, it´s all about tonight, Saturday night, oh holiest of nights. Is it a barbecue? The club? The bar? Again? Hopefully it´s a party at the pool over at Frenchie´s, his parents´ place is *the* place for those things, girls love ´em parties at Frenchie´s.
Enter the green-eyes girl in pointy-tail and jeans & sneakers. Kobra Khan knows you´re on it, you gotta get this girl, and for an evil snake-men from Eternian he´s actually pretty cool about the whole thing, he lets you act, he backs off, the show´s all yours buddy.
- “C´monnnnn I´ll give you a ride”
- “I so want you to come”
- “Of course you won´t be alone in there, you know me and that´s gonna be enough”
- “All I´m asking is for one shot, let me prove it to you I´m one of the good guys”

She´s the sun and your wings are wax, she says No to no matter what you say, Icarus falls. The snake-man sneers.
You open our eyes.

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As silly as it sounds I really had that dream last week or so. It was not a metaphor nor anything but the point is…

A wise man… whowassit? Gore Vidal?… has once said that the human memory works in a way that we do not remember the events per se, but merely our last memory of said events.
Kind of funny thing going on with that, for I guess the next time I think of [girl´s name], I´ll think of Kobra Khan.
He *was* there after all. Black Canary in lieu of Wonder Woman in the Justice League and Kobra Khan as my old High School buddy.

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If I get to live forever and with a decent word processor by my side, I´m gonna write about everyone I ever knew.

There was, for instant, that friend of my father whom had this really awful wooden duck on top of his dinner table and one weekend many many many years ago dad and I actually stole the duck and took it to a secluded spot and emptied the magazine of a 7.65 on it… Shred it to splinters…