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Friday, 13 July 2007


By Darlene Costner of Darlene's Hodgepodge

The summer when I was sweet sixteen I quite frequently double dated with my step sister. Our parents were quite rigid about a curfew and the time that we were to be home was strictly enforced. Being five minutes late might secure a reprieve for us but anything beyond that time meant we were grounded. The length of our sentence to be determined on how late we were.

I was seeing the boy of my dreams that summer and my step sister was dating his friend. Each time we went out I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. His name was Richard but, of course, we called him Dick. He had dark curly hair and shoulders as wide as the Grand Canyon. (I exaggerate.) If I confess that he is the boy I will never forget, you will realize what a thrill it was to be with him. I think every female has that one special guy whose image will go with her to her grave.

Our dating curfew was 10PM on school nights (if we were allowed out at all) and 11PM on Friday and Saturday nights. To make sure that our enforcers knew what time we came home, my parents left a light on in the room next to their bedroom.

Even though they were always in bed when we got home, they woke up when we turned the light off. This was followed by the question, "Is that you, girls?" Confirming that it was indeed us, they were then free to go back to their slumbers.

To explain what happened next I must tell you that we didn't have a key to the front door and had to return via the back porch that adjoined the kitchen.

One night we arrived home from one of our double dates to find that our parents had forgotten to leave the light on. Oh joy! We could extend this wonderful evening for another hour. Our poor dates probably just wanted to go home, but they obliged us our good luck by driving around for another hour.

When we got home at the daring hour of midnight we made a horrible discovery. My step-father had set a trap. Every pot, pan and baking dish in the kitchen was piled in a heap in the kitchen doorway. The pile reached our knees and was rather wide. My step sister, Gloria, was way more agile than I and she made it over without disturbing the pans, hissing at me that if I touched one she would kill me.

Klutz being my middle name, I got my left foot over the heap, but as my right foot followed my toe touched the top pan and the whole pile came crashing down with a very loud clatter. The next voice we heard was, "Is that you, girls?" We were doomed and we knew it.

Grounded again.

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


lol Great story!

LOL here too! Brings back memories, although my parents neer did that!


What a fun story. Because I spent more years as the parent that as the teen ager, I loved hearing your side of the story. Also, I suppose we have all had a "Richard" in our lives at one time. Ah! Sweet Youth.....

RATS! I could feel the tension. Oh those summer romances....I'm sure they got a lot of kids grounded. Nice story Darlene.

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