Dude! She doesn't know!

One weekend during my teenage years, like any other sweet, parent obedient teen, I DIDN'T have a big party when the folks where away. *cough*.

I don't know why, but mother had entered a competition using her partners Penthouse magazine...umm...yeah... Anyway, she won, and now her and her partner were off to Sydney for the weekend to have dinner with all the playmates...@#$@#$%!!!!

So, they're off for the weekend, so...duh party much? Hmm, what can I remember from that party? This is how smashed we were. We went through Mum's old LP collection. Listening to 'Sneakers, Neil Diamond etc' trust me, it hurts even to type that, let alone my poor ears. Also, an older member of the group brought over a VHS porno, some weird Japanese animi. Now I can say 'Oh God yes' and 'get that tenticale out of my ass' in Japanese. We also discovered that a tampon, soaked in beer, and heated up in the microwave...is bad. That's all I have to say about that.

And of course, (I had to start it) something got broken. I thought it fun to run AT the sofa, it would tip over, and I'd roll off it on the other side. YAY, what fun. Did it a few more times, then Dawson did it. Brilliant. Dawson was the good kid. He never drank when we all started. He refused. But then he discovered Vodka and would regularly skull the whole friggen bottle and be...paralytic (doesn't quite describe the full extent of his inebriated state, woe is the English language). Anyway, Dawson runs, and CRACK. This time when the sofa tipped over, one of the small legs (it had small legs, not big legs, more like a stump than a leg, like an amputated sofa), broke off.

"Aww man, how are we gonna hide this". Of course, from other postings you know, I have great ideas when drunk as a skunk. Off to the toolshed, grab a nail, hacksaw off the head, grab the superglue and return to sofa with a severed leg. Together we perform surgery on the stricken sofa, placing the 'pin' in the leg and gluing it all together. Presto! Fixed! Genius, now...no more sofa tipping (we did that to the cows, but that's another story)

The next morning, everybody has bailed, and I'm stuck with clean up duty. It's ok, Mum and co. aren't due back for another day. So I'm happily listening to music (loud as hell of course) and vacuuming the floor (so of course I can't hear anything that is happening outside...like a car arriving, parking, doors opening and closing etc). Out of the corner of my eye, two figures. I look up and mouth drop. "Errr hi?" Mum and co are staring at me, in mortified shock that I would be cleaning the house out of my own free will. In a few more seconds realization settles in when they notice that I'm trying to get beer stains out of the carpet...busted! But hey, nothings broken... So I get off with rolling of eyes, shaking of head and to finish cleaning up.

Fast forward 12 years. I'm a big boy now. Been living overseas, and return to the scene of the crime. We throw a big BBQ, mates from all over come. Parents as well, family friends, to welcome me home (not really, just an excuse to have a good ole piss up at somebody else's home). We eat, and are merry. A bit drunk, but not as bad as in the days of our experimenting youth. Mother has refurbished the sofa and purchased another set. So she's sitting over on the newer sofa/chairs, and as fate would have it, Dawson and myself are sitting on the old refurbished sofa. Conversation and more beer drinking ensues. During a lull in the conversation, Dawson starts looking at the sofa. A puzzled look crosses his face. Same shape, height, style...but different color...Dawson looks at me questioningly and asks in a very audible tone "Err, didn't we break this sofa?"

Mother looks at us "What!"

I look at my friend, shocked that he would betray, nay STAB his friend in the back right in front of the family! "DUDE, She doesn't know!"

Dawson explodes into peels of laughter knowing that he just dumped me in it, then totally spills the beans telling Mum what happened. I dive into more beer. When I look up....I get the rolling eyes and shaking of head treatment again.

Ahh, we will always be sons to our mothers and get the rolling eyes I guess.

(Thank God there are some things she STILL doesn't know about, shhh!)