Supervision can sure cramp your style as a kid. It wasn't so much the supervision that was the spirit crusher as the weight of knowing what would happen if one got in trouble.
Somehow, the ever watching eye of conscience took the night off when we visited my Aunt Kathy's house. I got the night off too. No longer responsible for the moods of my parents, I was free to just be. My Aunt Kathy and Uncle Mike were fun people who liked to party. When my Mom and Dad were with them, they partied and had fun too. They played cards, laughed, got high, drank beer, and pissed on themselves until the clock struck single digits again. It was, after all, the seventies.
...meanwhile upstairs...
A FREAKIN' CIRCUS WAS GOIN' ON!
We had soooo much fun. One of our all time favorite things was jumping on the bed. But, when we jumped on the bed, it was creative expression man. I mean we were doing' back flips from the bookshelf headboard and shit. Yeah, we broke things, never a bone though. And, we learned a lot. Really valuable stuff, like never pour water on a bare light bulb that is your only source of light. It really limits your choices of play but makes for an awesome game of hide and seek in the dark!
One particular occasion, I had gone to the bathroom and after I was done, I asked my cousin, "You wanna see something?" Take note, if anyone ever says that to you, you should yell and scream, "FIRE," to draw attention to them and put an end to the situation right away! I mean it. Don't ever say, "yes," which is what she said.
So, I proceeded to show her my newest fascination with wet toilet paper. It was a trick that I learned in the bathroom at my ghetto public school. A girl I didn't even know, showed me that if you wet wads of toilet paper and throw them up to the ceiling they would stick. I thought that was just amazing. So I did it in every public restroom I found myself alone in. I still feel bad that I did it at my Aunt Kathy's house. But it was fun plain and simple and Aunt Kathy's house and fun were just a happily ever after. So my cousin and I proceeded to educate ourselves on ways to defy gravity with wet wads of toilet paper.
Then, the excitement began to wane. The bathroom was small, after all, and the entire ceiling had almost been retextured. One of us, we’re still not sure who, spotted a box atop a shelf in the half open medicine cabinet. I, being rather long legged, climbed aboard the countertop to investigate more closely. Upon opening the box, I discovered the mother load of Cherry Chapstick! It was a whole friggin’ case of it! Failing to see any possibility of fun in that, I closed the box and placed it back in the medicine cabinet.
Hardly. We ate it.
Empty tubes lay around us like carcasses picked clean by ravenous birds with long beaks. This is how our mothers found us. All they could do was blink rapidly while their mouths formed the shapes for sound that wouldn’t come. Finally, one of them sliced through the silence with a classic, “JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Their duet continued with alternate, “WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?” “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Then glancing at each other, the bridge to the chorus, “You don’t think it’ll hurt them? Nah, probably not.” Finally the chorus, “WHY DID YOU EAT A WHOLE CASE OF CHAPSTICK?” With downcast eyes, and red and white tubes scattered around us like Pick Up Sticks, we sang, “Because it tasted good…that’s why.”
It didn’t make us sick. In fact, we suffered no after effects at all; not even the shits. I do have borderline high cholesterol though, so I can’t fully condone my actions. But, if ever faced with a mother load of chapstick again, you can bet your ass I’ll at the very least be smearing and squeezing it.
...And who the hell has a case of cherry Chapstick just laying around anyway. They were asking for it.
