More MIB Weirdery

As I mentioned in my exploration of my uncle’s “experience” with those enigmatic Men in Black, a related incident occurred with my cousin and his second wife a few days later. The alleged happening occurred on September 24th, 1976, and at face value seems even more incredible than that of my uncle’s, Dr. Herbert Hopkins, encounter.

My cousin’s name was John, his wife’s name Maureen (we called her Moo for short, but I won’t go into the reason…hey, at least she didn’t have three of ‘em like another relative I know…) and they lived on an apartment on the property. The apartment was on the second floor, over the garage, about a hundred yards from the main house, separated only by a large wide driveway. John was the older of two boys, Herb, Jr. being the youngest and much less fantasy prone. He and I got along pretty well and he was always starting this band or that. He was a talented bass guitar player. Maureen was talented at things the adults didn’t really speak of around us kids.

Anyway, the story goes something like this: On that fateful night of the 24th, Maureen received a mysterious phone call from a chap who claimed to know John. This man asked if he could visit for a while. John went to a local fast-food place to pick them up, bringing both the man and his woman companion back to the apartment. John did not recognize either. (Ok, stop here. Anyone else think it odd that this fellow supposedly knew John and yet John didn’t recognize him and brought him back home anyway? I’ll explain the reason a bit later.)

Both visitors appeared in their mid-thirties and wore odd, old-fashioned clothes (John never told me how old-fashioned, which decade the clothing came from. I don’t think he really thought it through that far.) The woman was a bit peculiar, with breasts set very low and something wrong with the way her legs joined at the hips. Both strangers walked with short steps while leaning forward, as if afraid to fall.

John and Maureen, being the hosts they were, gave each stranger a Coke, though the visitors never took a sip. They sat awkwardly on a sofa and the man began asking very detailed personal questions (ok, if there are children reading this, go get popcorn and a drink and come back in a few paragraphs.) Some of the questions were mundane: what did they watch on TV? Read? What did they talk about? But all the while the man was, er, fondling his female friend. The man then asked if that was ok and if he was “doing it right”.

Uh-huh.

When John left the room for a moment, the man asked Maureen to sit next to him and asked her “how she was made”. And whether she had nude photos of herself. You can see where this is going, can’t you?

Well, as a kid I discovered a curious missing time element in the story and no one would tell me why. I think I’ve got it all figured out by now.

At any rate, the woman announced a bit later she wanted to scram, but when the man stood he made no move to leave. He stood between the woman and the door and it appeared that the only way she could leave was by walking in a straight line to that door. So she asked my cousin to “please move him (her companion). I can’t move him myself.” Then suddenly the man left, followed by miss straight-liner, walking in a perfect line, without even a goodbye.

There you have it. What seemed kinda creepy to a kid now seems…well, no so much. In fact, it is so full gaps and silliness you have to wonder why some of the legitimate journals on paranormal research would even bother to treat it with any validity.
The truth is again pretty obvious and simple. But unfortunately mixed with family sadness. Remember the part I mentioned about John not recognizing the couple but bringing them home anyway? At the time, we kids weren’t privy to what went on there, but later John told me. John and Maureen were swingers (is that term even still used?) It was fairly common for other couples to be coming and going about that place. As I kid I thought, wow, they sure have a lot of, um, “close” friends. Yep, close. Very close. So that they might have brought home an alien or two…not such a big surprise.

Anyhoooo…John was unfortunately addicted to a number of narcotics and, like his father, alcohol. Maureen was into recreational drugs and booze as well…and a particularly friendly gal. Both imagined all sorts of things on a nightly basis. And did all sorts of things that are unmentionable here.

John was basically a good guy, but in desperate need of affirmation and attention. Especially from his father. Unfortunately he never got it. And things happened past that point that get rather murky. They all up and moved a thousand miles way from Maine to Florida. A short time later I got a call from John, asking to come stay with us for a few days so he and his mom could come back to visit the old beach ‘hood. He had terminal liver damage from all the drugs, which he had finally kicked. We expected him and his mom the next week.

And never heard from him again. Maureen—in a story I don’t really know all the reasons for—shot and killed him in their backyard. The last I knew, she was still in jail, but that was quite a while back.

It’s funny the way life goes sometimes, isn’t it? How the outrageous can in a heartbeat turn to the tragic. Well, at least in my family the mysterious Men in Black can be put to rest, if not the memory of my cousin.

Next time, maybe I’ll a touch on the psychic church and aunt with three ta-tas…