What Is Your Go-To Story?

Quora
The best answer to any question.
March 1 2013 2:43 PM

What Is Your Go-To Story?

bullmastiff
Awww, now that doesn't seem so scary, does it?

Photo by Bruno Vincent/Getty Images

This question originally appeared on Quora.

Answer by Nick Layon, Quora contributor:

I got chased an entire block, completely naked at 3 a.m., by a bull mastiff.

Advertisement

But let's back up for a minute. It was 2005, and I was a young buck, fresh out of high school. I had been keen on a young woman who, while lacking a more riveting personality, contained the physical dimensions to seriously make up for it.

One fateful night, she called me up to sneak into her room. She was a senior in high school at the time and still lived with her mother. This, however, was not any real impediment to a 19-year-old who wanted to bed the physical manifestation of his adolescent fantasies. No, her mother, her mother's boyfriend, and their giant bull mastiff were mere trifles. I was on my way.

Her house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, and since I didn't want to draw suspicion, I parked a block up the street by a stop sign. Moving swift and silently, like a Navy SEAL raiding a terrorist cell, I snuck up to her window and tapped slightly. The window was opened, and in I went.

Our night of passion began as they typically do at when we are young, awkwardly. But as we became more in sync with  each other, we lost track of our surroundings and the noise we were making, specifically, the squeaking of the bed as we bounced around. About 20 to 30 minutes entwined, we both heard a loud scratching.

"What was that?"

"Don't worry, it's just the dog."

We continued. What seemed like hours, but was really an additional 20 minutes, passed and we heard the scratching again.

"Damnit Duke," she said.

The dog, hearing its name, began to bark. Loudly.

The mother, awakened by the noise, came to the room and tried to open the door. It was locked, thankfully, but my troubles were just beginning.

"Open the damn door!" Her mom shouted. The dog, as dogs do amid a commotion, began to bark louder. I knew I was in trouble.

Thinking quickly, as my female friend went to the door to confront her angry mother, I grabbed my keys and dove, head first, out the still open window, as naked as the morning I first entered the world.

I began to run. I had only a block to go, but I was naked, very much aware of this fact, and just wanted to get the hell out of there. While this occurred, my friend had opened her door and was arguing with her mother. The dog, excited and anxious, was not capable of being reasoned with like a mother, however. It smelled something fleeing and instinct took over. It too, jumped through the still open window and, finding a moving target, began to make chase!

From here it's a bit of a blur. I remember hearing a loud, encroaching barking. I heard "Duke, stop!" coming from the house, as well as my own heart, pumping as hard as it could to keep up with oxygen debt I was creating while I sprinted to my car, aware of a giant dog on my heels.

I reached my car, fumbled with the keys, and started to open the door. Alas, I was too late. This f*****g monster that was chasing me had reached its target and launched itself at me, pushing me into my car and standing partially on my chest, barking and licking me, chest extended and proud. He had brought his quarry down. I tried to push him off, to no avail, when he was forcibly pulled off of me, by none other then my friend's mother's boyfriend.

As I stood, surprised I was still alive, the boyfriend, a very large 6-foot-5 gentleman, looked down on me and began to laugh.

"Son," he said between chuckles, "you look like you've had quite a night, and I think it's time for you to go home."

Relieved, in shock and slightly embarrassed I managed to choke out a "yes sir", got in my car, and left. About a block up the street, not being interested in getting pulled over butt naked, I looked for and found a pair of jeans in my back seat, put them on, stuck my phone in my pocket, and continued my drive home. 

Halfway home, my jeans started to vibrate. She was calling me, to find out what had happened. After filling her in, there was a long pause, and she asked

"You want to come back tonight?"

TODAY IN SLATE

Politics

The Irritating Confidante

John Dickerson on Ben Bradlee’s fascinating relationship with John F. Kennedy.

My Father Invented Social Networking at a Girls’ Reform School in the 1930s

Renée Zellweger’s New Face Is Too Real

Sleater-Kinney Was Once America’s Best Rock Band

Can it be again?

The All The President’s Men Scene That Captured Ben Bradlee

Medical Examiner

Is It Better to Be a Hero Like Batman?

Or an altruist like Bruce Wayne?

Technology

Driving in Circles

The autonomous Google car may never actually happen.

The World’s Human Rights Violators Are Signatories on the World’s Human Rights Treaties

How Punctual Are Germans?

  News & Politics
Politics
Oct. 22 2014 12:44 AM We Need More Ben Bradlees His relationship with John F. Kennedy shows what’s missing from today’s Washington journalism.
  Business
Moneybox
Oct. 21 2014 5:57 PM Soda and Fries Have Lost Their Charm for Both Consumers and Investors
  Life
The Vault
Oct. 21 2014 2:23 PM A Data-Packed Map of American Immigration in 1903
  Double X
The XX Factor
Oct. 21 2014 3:03 PM Renée Zellweger’s New Face Is Too Real
  Slate Plus
Behind the Scenes
Oct. 21 2014 1:02 PM Where Are Slate Plus Members From? This Weird Cartogram Explains. A weird-looking cartogram of Slate Plus memberships by state.
  Arts
Brow Beat
Oct. 21 2014 9:42 PM The All The President’s Men Scene That Perfectly Captured Ben Bradlee’s Genius
  Technology
Technology
Oct. 21 2014 11:44 PM Driving in Circles The autonomous Google car may never actually happen.
  Health & Science
Climate Desk
Oct. 21 2014 11:53 AM Taking Research for Granted Texas Republican Lamar Smith continues his crusade against independence in science.
  Sports
Sports Nut
Oct. 20 2014 5:09 PM Keepaway, on Three. Ready—Break! On his record-breaking touchdown pass, Peyton Manning couldn’t even leave the celebration to chance.