|Girls, Nerds, and a Party
Author: T. Scotty Z PM
The title says it allRated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 8 - Words: 5,381 - Updated: 08-04-12 - Published: 07-29-12 - id: 3045909
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Going over six feet to Ron, the girl's lips were insane with love. They demanded kisses every second. Ron could barely meet the standards of satisfaction. "Ca – can w – we stop? Ta – a – ake a break?" The girl tightened her grip around his neck. Trapping him. "Never." And she began smothering kisses onto his face.
Two minutes later Ron passed out.
I will not reveal to you what James did four times that night with Brooke in his bedroom on the bed with the doors locked, but I will say he was as drunk as a skunk. All around the exterior of the room the constant flow of the party endured.
At 3:30, however, it proved not to be eternal, and after the Beer Contest every individual in and outside and around the house lost consciousness. Either because sleep overpowered them or because they were so wasted beyond anything they had ever achieved before and their fragile/needy teenage bodies could not bear any more. So thus they remained like that.
James woke up greeted with a headache. He was on his bed. Sheets piled up like a mountain range. Brooke lay next to him. He sat up to a knocking. The headache was eating away at his rational thinking process. He flew open the blinds and sunlight spilled into the room, making a crusade against all the darkness. And blinding him temporarily. If this didn't earn me popularity then I don't know what will. He opened the door, yawning.
His parents stood there looking in. "Hello James," his father muttered grimly. His eyes passed over the messy room. And Brooke.
James's eyes bulged with fear. His father and mother gazed intently around the hallway. "This place is a pig sty," his mom commented dryly.
"More like a shit sty," denounced his dad.
James felt shame wash over him. Would he survive today?
"Mom. .. Dad. . . I know this looks bad but really – "
Then, unexpectedly, both of them began to laugh. Just like Brooke, they were overflowing with it. "Oh, oh – ho, James, James," Dad roared. "We're not angry!"
"We were kind of hoping you'd do something like this," Mom admitted. "Maybe not as messy, but. . ."
James was speechless. His mouth was open like the entrance to a cave. His teeth were stalagmites; his tongue a confused creature. "You're not upset?" In all those movies the parents always came home early, the kid would always clean up the house as best as he/she could, but a small detail would always give them away. And then the parents were super dooper angry. But not here. The house was a mess. He had not even attempted to clean up. They had come home early. . . And they weren't mad.
"Of course we're not mad. What do you take us for? Stiffs? It's about time you started having fun without us."
Mom smiled. "We were beginning to think you were some kind of nerd."
Father patted him on the back. "You done good son; you done good."
And like that the Party of the Year was approved by everyone.
Even the parents' of the kid who had it.
How do you like dem apples?