Long story short – Clinton Castle burned down, the land was turned over to the Newark Watershed and the Castle and the surrounding property was left undeveloped. So – with the abandoned burned out remains of the Castle standing over the pristine Clinton reservoir – the surrounding woods became the playground to Satanists, witches, Nazis or the KKK… at least that’s what the scuttlebutt was. People said that there was a demonic presence that cast a deadly vibe over the area. Hogwash if you ask me.
Oh, I am sure there was some “Satanic” activities going on up there. By that I mean a bunch of 17 year old headbangers taking a midnight drive to the Castle for some Motley Crue, a Anton LeVay Satanic Bible reading, beer pong and mutual masturbation (but not in a gay way… kind of like Liberace was not in a gay way).
So, every West Milford kid was obliged to have a Clinton Castle and/or Road experience – kind of like all New Jersians are required by law to be a Springstein fan. So, one beautiful September afternoon, Johnny (not his real name) drove me up to the Castle. (Being that my tale was on a beautiful September afternoon and not on midnight on Samhain, you know this isn’t going to be creepy.)
I think Johnny may have had some ulterior motive driving me up on that lovely afternoon. Maybe if he scared me with tales of devil worshippers or Nazis I would turn to him for comfort, and maybe let him touch my boob. That was not going to happen. I liked Johnny’s friend, Ben (not his real name, either). I mean Johnny was a drummer, but Ben played guitar…really, who do you think I was going to want more? I was totally smitten with Ben until he switched to bass, and then the attractive waned. (Ben would often regale me with tales of his sexual adventures – for a 17 year old, he was quite adventurous. And all those things he did with Bob [not his real name – dang, I had a lot of weird friends in high school] were not gay – in a Liberace sort of way.)
Back to Clinton Castle on that lovely September afternoon: Johnny started to see that his plan for afternoon dry humping was not gonna happen when, instead of being afraid, I was like, “ooohhhhh, pretty.” So he jumped right away into his tale from Clinton Castle. It goes something like this: The local satanic cult (aka drug addled Ozzy-fans with slightly homosexual tendencies) where having their ritual at the Castle (see: Black Sabbath tape and a big bag o’ weed). The high priest Kevin was all set. Kevin earned that title cos the Anton LeVay Satanic Bible was his. He was also 21, so could buy beer: thus “High Priest”. (He really was a “high” priest – see next paragraph.)
Any who.... this is what Johnny related to me: Kevin had really exceeded his high priest duties that night by bringing not just the beer and black t-shirt, but also the LSD. Our little devil worshippers had piled into their moms’ station wagons and taken that long drive up Route 23 to the dark, mysterious, badly paved Clinton Road. Over the reservoir and through the woods, these bad boys hiked up to the Castle.
Once ensconced at the Castle, the Ozzy started playing and the LSD was handed out. High priest Kevin started quoting Anton LeVay (“It’s good to be bad,” “Christianity is crap,” “I like puppies”.) Moved by the happenings, one of the revelers, Mark, began having visions.
Johnny told me this story with complete seriousness – like he was channeling Stephen King. And this is what Johnny told me: “Mark dropped all this LSD ….and….saw…Satan…in ….Kevin’s….FACE.”
I said, “Ummmmmmmm…what was the first part of that sentence?”
Johnny replied, “Mark dropped all this LSD?”
Me: “Ummmmmmmmm, may that have had something to do with the satanic vision?”
Johnny, shaking his head emphatically, said, “Nooooooo. It was the dark magic.”
No, Johnny, it was hogwash. And when you give another dude a blow job, that’s gay – in a Liberace sort of way.
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