Whack Off

Unreal witnesses a mailbox massacre -- but we soon forget when we're urged to thrust and thrust and thrust. Plus, a mint-condition Brooke Shields finds her way into the Bargain Box.

All across St. Charles County, teenage dudes spent the winter in front of their Xboxes, where they roamed exotic, animated lands bludgeoning their archenemies with clubs. It was awesome, for sure. But come spring, the dudes commence to itching for something more real, some carnage you can actually feel when you destroy it.

Like mailboxes, which explode like skulls when struck from the passenger side of a careering auto.

Spring officially arrived for the Bayfield and Royal Springs subdivisions late last month, when two nineteen-year-old males went on a Saturday-night tear through the conjoined neighborhoods off Route 3 and Feise Road. Early estimates by the O'Fallon Police Department indicated that "at least 26 mailboxes" were damaged.

But it was much worse than that.

"Oh it was a couple hundred of them, at least," mail carrier Sharon Levin tells Unreal, shoving supermarket leaflets into a box that survived.

Out here the mailboxes perch on poles at the edge of every driveway like piñatas. Some are decorated: "Support Our Troops," reads one Old Glory-festooned example; another is painted with flames and emblazoned with the late, great Dale Earnhardt's No. 3. Ah, but a little down the way a box and its pole have been ripped entirely from the ground. A few doors down one is crushed on its pole, its red flag askew.

The perpetrators were arrested but have yet to be charged, says Diana Damke, public information officer for the O'Fallon PD. Officers pulled over the pair the night of the massacre. "We've recovered a blunt object," Damke says enigmatically. "We can't release what that item is."

"Occasionally you'll get one or two knocked down," says O'Fallon postmaster Judy Womack. "But that's very unusual to have twenty — or even ten — at one time knocked down. I've never heard of that."

Womack tells Unreal that most box-bashers stick to Route 3, where, no doubt, higher speed limits yield a more gratifying blow and an easier escape.

"When I was at the Maryland Heights area, they would do that frequently up and down Old St. Charles Road," Womack reminisces. "I would tell the customer, 'Just put it close to a tree, so when they swing that bat, it's going to really stop them.'"



And Thrust and Thrust and Thrust

Unreal got all hot and bothered last Monday night. Why the lather? A Brentwood dance studio called P.E.C. Studios, where we went to partake of cardio striptease.

The Louis V.-toting twentysomethings crowded into the basement classroom, a well-lighted room with a rubbery green mat covering the floor and mirrors lining three walls. The fourth contained small windows.

Along with our friend, whom we'll call Lady Jane, Unreal gravitated toward the rear of the room as hip-hop commenced to thump from the stereo. "My stage name is Madame Ecstasy, and you're my mamas," announced our instructor, a leggy specimen no more than 35.

"Work yo' shit, bitches," squealed Carrie, a bubbly blonde clad in a fuck-me pink track suit.

Within minutes asses were swirling and pelvises were "popping." Shit, in other words, was being worked. We were admonished to swivel our necks, spread our legs, touch ourselves, and thrust and thrust and thrust.

Sounds effortless, right? Well, we pulled a hamstring — and that was before the time came to don high heels. Our cheeks pinker than Carrie's outfit, we distracted ourselves from our own reflection by fixing upon the "69" tattooed on the ass in front of us. How neatly it was inked!

Not that we've got anything against elevating the heart rate, but cardio striptease is not Unreal's metier. Rest assured, however, that if we ever do go back, we're gonna hit up the line of hombres who peer in through those little windows. They clearly appreciate this workout.



Somebody Buy My Crap

Item: Brooke Shields doll, 1982
Condition: Still in box
Price: $45
Name/Age: Mary/45
Location: West County
Phone: 314-991-1996
Issue: March 26

Unreal: Why are you selling your Brooke Shields doll?

Mary: I'm selling it for my mother. She bought it back in the early '80s. Now she's at the age where she's trying to get rid of some stuff. Since Brooke Shields has been in the news recently, we thought this would be a good time to sell it.

Are you talking about her confession that she suffered from postpartum depression?

Exactly. That and she has a new book coming out. Also in People magazine I read that she's expecting her second child.

Do you think Andre Agassi was too good for her, or vice versa?

Probably vice versa. I think I like her more than I used to, 'cause now she has kids and I relate to that. It takes courage for her to discuss her depression.

The 1980 movieBlue Lagoon and an earlier picture titledPretty Baby stirred controversy for scenes featuring a nude Brooke Shields — who at the time was still a minor. Does the Brooke Shields doll come with clothing? If so, is it removable?

She's wearing stirrup pants and a long sweater and maybe some high-heeled boots. I don't want to take it out of the box. But, yeah, it looks like the clothes come off.

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