The Going Away
Party That I Got To Go To!
Ah, sweet seventeen,
and with fascist parents. The last time they caught me doing anything
bad was when I was fourteen. They caught me smoking. I'm
still not allowed out after dark unless it pertains to work or school.
I had just met a guy named Frank
who was four years older and lived in my town, but he was moving
about ten miles away that coming Friday, and was throwing a going-away
party. I hadn't been to a good party in ages (due to both parental
restriction and my own unpopularity), so I was determined to attend
But how? Suddenly it hit me: there
was going to be a free dance at school that night, and you got a
souvenir t-shirt just for showing up. So I went, snagged my shirt,
then went to the party, got really drunk, and drove home without
incident. Since I can hold my liquor pretty well, my intoxication
went unnoticed, and I most likely reeked of pot and cigarettes,
but that went unnoticed as well. And to this day they suspect nothing!