My Mum's always been a fairly relaxed, liberal parent
She accepted my underage drinking as "a stage that all boys go through," and would often turn a blind eye to me stumbling in the door around midnight in a state of merry unsobriety.

However, there was an incident she has never let me forget. I was around fifteen, and had spent a productive evening drinking cheap carpet cleaner white cider with my mates in the local swingpark (those were the days...).

I don't remember much of the following events - most of this has been gleaned from my mother's retelling;

Apparently I stumbled in the door around 11PM, doing my best impression of Oliver Reed - walking with the grace of a parkinson sufferer on a bouncy castle, while muttering unintelligent nonsense to myself like a schizophrenic tramp. After staggering into the living room and staring at whatever dross was on the TV for a good 10 minutes, swaying in a non-existent breeze, I suddenly exclaimed, "CRISPS!" in a loud, triumphant voice, holding my finger aloft like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, then turned and stumbled in the direction of the kitchen.

After 15 minutes, and a lot of strange noises emanating from the kitchen, my Mum got up to investigate. She found me staring intently at a bowl on the sideboard while attempting to manuever an open bag of Doritos over the bowl, with crisps scattered all along the worktop. I then laid the bag carefully down, and began systematically picking up each individual crisp and carefully depositing it into the bowl, muttering to myself the entire time.

At this point, my Mum said, "I thinks it's probably best if you head to bed and sleep it off."

"Mmmaa will" I replied, lifting my now-full bowl of crisps delicately, holding one hand underneath in case any crisps made a break for freedom, and proceeded to head, slowly, upstairs.

My Mum sighed, and returned to whatever she was watching on TV. 10 minutes passed. "At last, he's went to bed. Peace and quiet" my mother thought. At that moment, there was a massive BANG! from upstairs. My mother claims it sounded like a bomb going off. Having no memory of the event, I can neither confirm nor deny this. In any case, it was fucking loud.

My mother heads upstairs to investigate, and, upon opening my bedroom door, finds her pride-and-joy, her firstborn, her baby, lying in amongst the ruins of his bedside table with his feet upon his computer chair, the bowl of crisps lying upturned on his belly, crisps littering the floor.

"What the cunt?" my mother probably said (or words to that effect).

At which point I looked at her blearily, looked back at my belly, picked a crisp from off my stomach and started to eat it.

She claims she's never been prouder of me than that moment. I fear that may be sarcasm.
(Godwin's Lawyer is more evil than Hitler, Sun 14 Feb 2010, 9:05, 1 reply)

simply
fantastico
(jennymnemonic, Sun 14 Feb 2010, 15:02, closed)