LP Leisure Suit Larry 5 – Part 1

This LP was plagued with errors and issues, but here it is. Leisure Suit Larry 5.


Where Did I Go Wrong? – 10: The Great Platypus Caper

My friend Kyle and I stole a platypus.

Once again, heavily tempted to let that be the entire chapter, because it’s all downhill from there.

We’re going way back now, earlier than any other story yet told. I’m in high school, and my buddy Daniel has a huge crush on Stacy. As is typical in high school romances, Stacy is hesitant to date Daniel, for whatever reasons. She finally decides to issue him a challenge. If he can bring her a platypus, she’ll be his girlfriend (or have sex with him, or maybe just kiss him, I don’t remember). Daniel is defeated, for how is a man supposed to get a platypus in Texas? Such a task is clearly beyond mere mortals. It would truly be a task for a God…no, even that is not enough. Such a mighty task would take two Gods. That’s when Kyle and Jeff spring to the rescue. I’m always willing to be a bandit for love.

Now, Dallas has a very excellent zoo, which was key to our plans. That was the night Kyle discovered that platypi (a word spell-check was never prepared to encounter) have poisonous claws (my editor has pointed out to me that what they actually have is venomous ankle spurs, clearly a very vital and significant difference, thank you Alice). Did you know that? I didn’t know that, but Kyle certainly found out the hard way.

We tossed the platypus into my trunk (where it could happily romp with the old issue of Playboy and the pull down screen for passport photos, amongst many other odd things) and drove out to meet Daniel and Stacy. Upon arrival Daniel removed the platypus from my trunk (being careful of the claws, as we’d learned to be) and handed it over to Stacy. Stacy declared the entire deal null and void, since Kyle and I had retrieved the platypus instead of Daniel. My argument that Daniel retrieved it from my trunk, where it just so happened to be, did not sway her. Daniel got nothing. But Daniel did not give up hope, inspired by the heroic courage, daring do, and general handsomeness of Kyle and myself (or so I like to pretend), Daniel went on to make future attempts to woo the mighty Stacy.

That is how I tell the story in person, and it’s a pretty decent story. But I promised that the stories in this book would be completely factual, so I should include the missing information.

The platypus that we captured was in fact one of my sister’s Beanie Babies. We did consider stealing one from the zoo, until we learned that they didn’t have any platypi (sorry spell check), so that part is true. Kyle did research in an encyclopedia and discover about the claws (and reading is always the hard way for Kyle to learn something), so that part is true. We asked for permission to borrow the platypus, but were firmly denied on the grounds that we couldn’t be trusted with a small stuffed toy platypus. This meant we had to steal it, so that part is true.

But see how much better a story can be when you remove certain elements?

Oh, and the platypus was returned unharmed, and my family never knew it was stolen, until now obviously.

That was not Daniel’s last attempt to get anything from Stacy. The story that follows is very odd, but I promise it is entirely true. The decisions that feature in this story made sense at the time they were made, even if I can’t justify them fully now.

Daniel and I went to Rocky one night, where Stacy was the boss. Now, one of the girls on cast had become creepy and stalkerish towards me, and I feared being alone with her at any point. My personal preference would have been not to go at all, but Daniel asked me to help him out. Little did I know what helping him out would entail.

Now, in order to avoid being somehow trapped alone by my stalker, I arranged to have my friend Ivy come with me, on the condition that she be handcuffed to me the entire time. Like I said, it must have made sense at the time. The part of this I find most confusing is, why the hell did she agree!? Ivy will not feature in any other stories, so there’s not much point in you the reader actually getting to know her. But she was far more attractive than any girl I should ever be legally allowed to be handcuffed to.

Nevertheless, the show went well and afterward we were all hanging out in the parking lot, as high school kids love to do. I don’t recall how the situation initially arose, but Stacy offered to make out with Daniel, but only if he could complete a great and mighty quest first. Having learned from the Platypus Caper that I would find loop holes in any quest she could assign, she issued the only thing that would guarantee my non-involvement.

In order to make out with Stacy, Daniel would first have to make out with me.

So enamored was Daniel, that he did not hesitate before approaching me. I backed away as best I could, but remember I was hindered. Not only was I handcuffed to Ivy, but I’m fairly certain she wanted to see this happen. As Daniel loomed closer, I fought, I really did. Sadly, I could only fight with one hand, and Daniel had the full complement of limbs.

Still, I valiantly and stalwartly (a word I never dreamed I’d actually get to use, and now that I have I’m going to have to go and look it up to see what it means) beat the beast back. I was victorious; I did not have to make out with a man!

And then Daniel pleaded with me. Realizing that were the tables turned, and all that was standing between me and the girl of my dreams was a brief make-out session with a dude, Daniel would have helped me out, I conceded the contest. The things we do for love and friendship.

The mighty Daniel achieved his quest that night, and was rewarded as he was promised.

The only real upside to this entire caper? I got to spend the rest of our friendship pointing out that he was a lousy kisser.



Where Did I Go Wrong? – 9: Super Heroes Need Sleep Too

Who creates college class schedules? And which one of them thinks that the best class to have at 8 am is a history class. And not an exciting history class, a history class about…like…boring stuff. If you want to teach me history at 8 am, there better be strippers involved if you want me to even have my eyes open.

Who actually wants to listen to some tenured professor droning on about the Visigoths when all they can think about is that nice comfortable bed they left behind (and potentially the even nicer and more comfortable girl who’s still in it, sleeping away.) Although history classes aren’t the worst thing to have first thing in the morning, film history classes are.

Most film analysis classes follow the same pattern, one or two days of lecturing (depending on the schedule) and one day of watching a film to be discussed the next week. And I’ve seen some interesting films in these classes. One situation I hope to never relive is when we watched The Dreamers, which features a very attractive French girl, naked, A LOT. Eva Green, if you’re reading this, you’re absolutely stunning, and I’m incredibly single. Sitting in a room full of people whilst being intensely aroused is a very uncomfortable feeling, only mollified by the fact that every other person in there with a Y chromosome was probably going through the same thing (and probably a few of the double X chromosomes too, this was college).

But you don’t watch The Dreamers at 8am in film history. No, you watch Fall of the House of Usher, or Nosferatu. You watch black and white silent films. The problem here isn’t so much the black and white (because there are some incredible black and white films out there that I’d put up against anything Hollywood can put out today), it’s the silent part. Silent films make me a little sleepy under the best of circumstances; 8 am is NOT the best of circumstances. Early Film History is the only film class I ever failed and had to retake, and when I retook it, I slept through all the films again. Luckily the tests didn’t change from one time to the next, so I’d memorized enough answers to get by.

I swear I’ve still never seen a single frame of The Fall Of The House of Usher (which apparently isn’t about a movie theater employee or a rapper) or Nosferatu, but I was in a room while they played, twice.

But I’m not here to talk to you about Film History, no, that’s far too interesting for 8 am. I’m here to talk to you about regular good old fashioned History. I’ll at least give this particular history professor credit, he tried to make things interesting the first day. The first day of any class is almost universal, the professor gives you a syllabus, explains his absentee policy (and I always kept track of how many classes I could miss how many times, man I loved college), and they give you the same speech about how they hate seeing cell phones in their classroom. To be fair, I don’t blame them, if I was trying to teach a class I’d get royally pissed if I saw students busy texting or whatever. It’d almost anger me as much as seeing cell phones in a movie theater, but I digress. He explained to all of us his cell phone policy in his class, he would only allow us to have a cell phone in class under one of two circumstances. The first is that the president’s life was in our hands. The second is that we were Superman. But he said that if we were Superman, we’d have to prove it by ripping open our shirt to reveal the costume.

Now would be a good time to tell you about the trunk of my car. I have no idea how it started, but one day it was apparently decided that my trunk would become the repository of all things that might ever be useful under any possible circumstances, as well as things that would never be useful under any circumstances. I’d list for you some of the things in my trunk, but you honestly wouldn’t believe me. In fact I’d swear that some of the things in my trunk were never actually put in there. I’m starting to think that the oddities contained in my car are somehow breeding, and giving birth to little monstrosities when I’m not looking. However, the number of times I’ve been in a circumstance where I was able to solve a problem by saying “I’ve got one of those in my trunk” would blow your mind. I bring all of this up, because I did in fact have a Superman costume in my trunk. A nice expensive Superman costume, with fake muscles and everything. I fit those muscles like they were a Jell-O mold. Seriously, if I took it off fast enough, you could still see where they were.

So the next day of class I’m sitting in the back of the room, wearing a Superman costume underneath a large black trench coat. Daniel calls my cell phone at the prearranged time, and the professor glares at me with hate in his eyes. I answer it; the students are for the very first time in this class fully awake. I say into my cell “I’ll be right there!”

The professor demands to know what’s going on, and explains that he was very clear about his feelings about cell phones in class. That’s when I whipped open my trench coat, proclaimed that the President’s life was in my hands, and ran from the room with my cape and trench coat flapping in the breeze.

I immediately went home and went back to sleep.

Nobody ever spoke of the incident again afterwards. I think everyone wrote it off as a mass hallucination.

Now, as an adult, I’d like to apologize to that teacher for being so ridiculously childish while he was attempting to impart important information to me. Teachers are more deserving of respect than anyone, they’ve all chosen a career that is thankless in wages, thankless from the students they forcibly insert knowledge into, and thankless in some third way that would make this sentence really funny if only I could think of it. On the other hand, he was teaching a History class at 8 am, so he totally deserved what he got.