Rich? What's this?
My parents had gone away for the weekend which to a fifteen year old means: "it am party tiem!"
Me and some mates managed to purchase a couple of 12 packs of lager, some evil cheap vodka, and some noxious smelling red stuff that could probably dissolve a corpse. The next step was the purchase of some 'special herbs' and, as a natural follow on from the former, as many packets of pringles, choccies, and cakes that we could lay our grubby little hands on.
With everything prepared, people began to arrive and the good times did roll! Music was played at deafening volumes, off limit rooms were breached and general chaos began to take over. I can't complain, because i had a helping hand in much of the chaos! Any hoo, the party came to an end at some ungodly hour and a few people crashed out and while i sat to watch the sunrise over the city.
The tidy up the next day seemed to go quite well, nothing appeared to be broken, no items had been stolen (a fucking miracle knowing some of my friends!), and i relaxed with a nice drink and a spliff.
It was a few days later when my mum walked into my room and said: "did you have a party while we were away?" i put on my most innocent expression and said of course not, you said i wasn't allowed! it was then that she produced from behind her back a make shift bong, that i vaguely remember trying out, and the virtually empty bottle of evil red stuff. "Rich? What's this?" i didn't even bother trying to think of an excuse, and it wouldn't have done me any good if i'd tried to think of one cos one of my neighbours grassed me up as well! Bam! grounded!
(Pigpen was 'ere on, Fri 14 Apr 2006, 20:33, Reply)