I should have saved one of yesterday’s posts for today, as I’m completely stuck on what to blog about.
Joy was of no help. I asked her for some stupid shit we have done, and she said, “Tell them about the time I told you there were monsters in the bubbles.”
I have no idea what the hell she was talking about. But it was probably something she scared the hell out of me with when we were kids.
I do remember one time I got us both in trouble. Growing up, Joy and I were little firebugs, burning things at any given opportunity. Once, we were burning leaves or something in our tree fort way back in the woods so our parents wouldn’t see us.
There are two things wrong with this. One, “way back” was probably 15 feet into the woods. The second, IT WAS THE WOODS.
Well, we didn’t get caught (at least immediately). We somehow managed to enjoy the magical flames without burning down the neighborhood. But later on that evening, when I was taking a bath, my mom came into the bathroom to wash her face or something. (Calm down, folks, I was probably five. Nothing sick going on here).
She was about to leave the bathroom when she stopped and looked at me. Without saying a word, she crouched down, grabbed my head, shoved her face in my hair and took a big whiff.
“Why does your hair smell like smoke?” She asked.
Without missing a beat, I burst into tears and screamed, “JOY MADE ME DO IT!”
Joy and I spent the rest of the evening writing out of the dictionary.*
*When we were kids, one of our punishments was to write either from the dictionary (be it a page or three, or a list of words my mom gave us). And my mom had this suck ass dictionary that probably had twelve thousand words to a page. God, it sucked.