“Looked at them?! Are you kidding me? They’re phenomenal!! I thought my eyes were gonna bug outta my head!” laughed my twin brothers Paul and Patrick. I obviously walked in on them in the middle of a private conversation – probably about girls or sports – two subjects constantly on their 15 year old minds. They quickly shuffled the books and papers on Dad’s desk into one big pile, their faces turning red.
“What are you doing here, Jenny? Aren’t you supposed to be at math club?” Patrick asked nervously.
“Yes but today’s session was cancelled because our math teacher had a meeting. But what I’m doing here isn’t nearly as interesting as what you’re doing here in Dad’s study.”
Paul and Patrick both started talking at once, turning bright red and getting more nervous every second while fiddling with the mound of papers on the desk. “Who, us?” asked Paul. “Just the usual. We were talking about who represents the greatest baseball players of the ‘90s … you know like A-Rod, Derek Jeter, Cal Ripken, Roger Clemens.”
“Yeah, that’s right” agreed Patrick. “We were looking at our baseball cards and magazines and comparing stats. No big deal.”
“Oh, is that so?” I challenged. “Then explain to me why you sounded so excited if it was ‘no big deal’ and why you’re here in Dad’s study using his desk – which you know is off limits – when all your baseball cards, magazines and what have you are upstairs in your bedroom?”
My brothers started squirming as I continued.
“I know you boys and I’m sure you’re up to something. Where are all your cards? Where are all your magazines? I don’t see anything baseball related at all. So you see by this simple matter of deduction, your lame answers are wrong and my reasoning is right. Q.E.D.!”
The boys looked at each other, quickly gathered their piles of papers and books and began running to the stairs and the safety of their bedroom. In their haste to get away from me, everything they were holding slipped from their arms and fell to the floor.
And there it was … the thing they were so desperately trying to hide … the latest issue of Playboy with Farrah Fawcett in all her glory on the cover.
I gasped in righteous indignation. “I’ve never been more ashamed of you two! That’s a filthy sex magazine! Do you know what she is??”
Paul sighed deeply and whispered “She’s a goddess.”
“Yeah, a goddess” repeated Patrick breathlessly.
“She is not a goddess!” I yelled. “She’s a Hollywood slut, a tramp … at least that’s what Mom says.”
“I don’t think Dad would agree with that” replied Paul. “After all, it’s his magazine.”
“Dad’s?!?” My hands flew to my face in shock and all my books fell to the floor.
“Well, what have we here?” quipped Patrick. “Playgirl magazine, Jenny? I’m appalled!” Paul pretended to faint.
“Oh, you too think you’re real funny. I bet you won’t be laughing when I tell you it’s Mom’s magazine!”
“Mom’s?!?” the boys shouted in unison. “But she’s … Mom!!”
“I’d say we’re at a standoff, wouldn’t you, boys?” I said conspiratorially “Let’s put both these magazines back in the desk where we found them.”
“And no one will be the wiser” agreed Paul.
Just then we realized our parents were standing right there!
Dad spoke seriously. “Well, obviously you’ve broken the rules and can’t be trusted. You were caught red-handed and now you must pay the price. You’re all grounded for two weeks. Q.E.D.”
I’m sure on my way upstairs I heard Mom teasingly say “Good thing they didn’t find our movie collection.” Dad laughed conspiratorially. “Come here, my little vixen” he said in a voice strangely like Ricardo Montalbán.
Ew! Gag me with a spoon!
NAR © 2020