Lynetta had this major-league thing for Skyler Brown, who lives about three blocks down,
and every chance she got, she went down there to hang out while he practiced the drums.
Well, boom- boom-whap, what did I care, right? But then Skyler and Juli’s brothers formed a band, which they named Mystery Pisser.
When my mom heard about it, she completely wigged out.
What kind of parents would allow their children to be in a band named Mystery Pisser? It’s vile. It’s disgusting!”
“That’s the whole point, Mom,” Lynetta tried to explain. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just to get a rise out of old people.”
“Are you calling me old, young lady? Because it’s certainly getting a rise out of me!”
Lynetta just shrugged, implying that my mom could draw her own conclusion.
“Go! Go to your room,” my mother snapped. “For what?” Lynetta snapped back. “I didn’t say a thing!”
“You know perfectly well what for. Now you go in there and adjust your attitude, young lady!”
So Lynetta got another one of her teenage time-outs, and after that any time Lynetta was two minutes late coming home for dinner,
my mother would messenger me down to Skyler’s house to drag her home.
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