Bonfires

Remember the good old days of high school when you had a big game coming up and the school would have a bonfire night during the week to stir the school spirit to a fever pitch for the big game?

Well this week is homecoming at my son's high school. So cute E-mo kid decides he will reluctantly conform and go to bonfire. Why?

Not to cheer on the school. Hell no!!! The natural enemy of an E-mo kid is the Doo-Bro. (Jocks who buy clothes at Pac Sun stores). Doo-bros play football. Cute E-mo kid does NOTcheer on the football team.

No he goes to the bonfire first, to hang out with his friends, in particular Alena, the girlfriend that I'm not supposed to know he has. Secondly, it IS night time and there IS a BIG fire at school. Which is code for--there is always the chance the winds will come up and blow a spark in the direction of the campus and...yipee, skippy doo-dah day...the school could burn to the ground.

Don't try to follow the logic. I get sucked in every day and usually end up with a headache.

So, since cute E-mo boy doesn't have a drivers' license yet me and the guy I live with decide to drive him out to the school, which is some distance from our house, and go hang out at my Dad's house, which is nearby. Dad is out of town. We figure, we will hang out at Dad's and start a little bonfire of our own. If you know what I mean.

Well, concientious neighbor Connie comes over before we even have lip lock and proceeds to fill me in on the neighborhood goings on. She includes my brother's visit the previous weekend for his high school reunion when he used Dad's house. No duh, Connie, I was there!

In the mean time, the guy I live with is inside opening windows and doors to air the place out and instead of coming outside to rescue me lays down on Papa Bear's bed and takes a little nap.

After the 4th or 5th good bye and ringing ears, Connie talks at about volume level 14 on a scale of 1 to 10, I finally extricate myself from the friendly neighbor and go seek out that guy I live with. Yeah, he is prone---extremeties stretched to the four corners of the bed and snoring.

So I kicked his foot. Yes, I can kick that high! I kicked his foot and told him we had to leave to go pick up the kid at the bonfire. Who's parting words to us were...

"Don't be late. I don't want to be standing like a lonely loser in the parking lot!"

Poor kid, we've left him stranded soooooo many times. Puh-leeze! In my family we were always the last ones picked up. I never let my kids wait although cute E-mo boy tempts me frequently.

So no bonfire for me, however, cute E-mo kid came home with glitter all over his hoodie from the girlfriend that I don't know anything about. Something tells me, he got bonfire.