Who’s your Daddy?
I had never had a friend over for a sleepover. But I was 14 and excited and finally had one friend over and we were going to the mall that weekend. It was to be a thoroughly kid intense weekend.
My only concern was my parents. They could screw it all up. And they did.
So my mother and stepfather decide to go on a bender that Friday night, which wasn’t so bad so they came in late and my best friend and I had the run of the dvd player and the refrigerator. Heaven.
But Saturday morning we needed a ride or bus fare to the mall to go to the comic book store. I plied my friend with breakfast, hoping my parents would come out of their master bedroom, reasonably sane.
No show.
I would have to go in.
I told my friend to get dressed, we would take the bus. I was going in for cash by hook or crook.
I went in, thinking my stepfather was still there. But he’d left out early for work. I was sure by the passionate sounds that he and she were worn out and unconscious and fast asleep.
I opened the door. Slipped inside. Now I was looking at just obtaining cash, I was on a mission of pure D theft now. I felt guilty. But I had to preserve the weekend, no?
I creep to the bedside where my mother is and she is in a nightie. I work hard to block out my carnal meanderings of their sounds from the night before. I was making my way to the coin 5-gallon jar. Fistfuls, that’s all I needed. Fistfuls. As I get to the nightstand of my stepfather’s side, I glance at my strewn snoring mother, her nightie is up around her waist. And laying between her legs is a cucumber.
At first, I’m confused. Then it all dawns on me. I make the connection. I don’t even try to be quiet anymore and I just fist full to my hearts glory from the jar.
How could they? Why would they? What else have they done? Animals! Animals!!
I get back outside the bedroom and my best friend is like:
“Did she say we could go? Did she give you money?”
“Oh, yeah, we can go, all right. I’m never on the hook for anything else so long as I live.”
While my mother and I had our verbal knife fights, I never pulled out this particular veggie-matic blade. And there were times, in public even, I was tempted.
To this day, when I’m buying cucumbers and they’re a little greasy from the sheen they put on them……..nevermind. Flashbacks to seeing my mom’s cooch and a cuke.
Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com
KylePhoenixShow@gmail.com
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