Youth Group
When I was in my teens I joined a youth group at the local church. Mostly cos there were girls there, but after going a few times we realised that most of them were shit. Well except for Taryn. She was the local bicycle, but my mate got there first.

So every Friday we received a free pass to do what we liked without parental supervision. They assumed we were off gallivanting with bible bashers, but for the most part we smoked pot and hung out in the park. We'd make occasional errands around the neighbourhood to collect emblems and hubcups from stupid car owners who had carelessly left their cars parked in the street. It shaped my future somewhat because I soon crossed off the potential career of 'Porche badge putter-on-erer' from my list. Fuck me if they were as hard get on as they were to get off then I knew I never wanted that job.

One balmy summer evening in the park I recall cutting a lonely finger on the swings. The moody glow of the street lamp cast an eerie shadow behind me and the soft wind gave nature her beautiful voice amongst the trees. I glanced over to the roundabout and my mate was still furiously snogging the face off Taryn. I skinned up another joint, smoked it and soon drifted off. I was rudely awoken with the demand to 'Smell my finger!!'. I'd go so far as to say that I didn't only smell the finger, but actually tasted it.

So through the ruse of attending youth group I experienced my first real sniff of fanny on my mates finger, learnt how to steal hubcaps quickly and stealthily, taught myself to skin up, lie to my parents with a straight face, learnt a few crappy songs on the odd occasion I did attend and finally I realised that sluts also go to church.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Mon 23 Mar 2009, 15:37, Reply)