And they left my brother in charge of the house. He was sixteen at the time.
My brother used the opportunity to throw a big party with beer and everything.
I was ordered to stay in my room, which was okay because that’s where everyone kept their coats,
and it was fun looking through the stuff in their pockets.
Every ten minutes or so, a drunk girl or boy would stumble in my room to see if they could make out there or something.
Then, they would see me and walk away. That is, except for this one couple.
This one couple, whom I was told later were very popular and in love, stumbled into my room and asked if I minded them using it.
I told them that my brother and sister said I had to stay here, and they asked if they could use the room anyway with me still in it.
I said I didn’t see why not, so they closed the door and started kissing. Kissing very hard.
After a few minutes, the boy’s hand went up the girl’s shirt, and she started protesting.
“C’mon, Dave.” “What?” “The kid’s in here.” “It’s okay.”
And the boy kept working up the girl’s shirt, and as much as she said no, he kept working it.
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