GHOST OF KDUNK PAST
Tonight I enjoyed a lovely dinner catching up with my two girl cousins that I haven’t seen in a while. We had fun laughing and going down memory lane. Inevitably the conversation turned to what it always does - how I am the oldest cousin and how I tortured them as kids:
M: Remember when K put piles of salt at the bottom of my OJ when I went to the bathroom and tricked me into having a ‘OJ drinking contest’ to see who could finish their drink the quickest?
K: Who? Me?
S: Or the time K said Oscar the Grouch lived in the garden hose and that I should look inside and then she blasted the water on.
K: I did this? Oh wait…I did.
M: Or what about when we were in the minivan stuck in bumper to bumper traffic and K gave me a super hot fireball and I was crying and dying for water and Mom was freaking out.
KL It wasn’t that hot…
S: Or the time she told M to take an ice cube right out of the freezer and put it on her tongue because it tasted 'really, really good' and we had to stick M’s tongue under hot water to remove it?
K: Ohh…that’s bad.
What a terror! Despite having done the pranks I still felt bad. More importantly - where were my parents during all this? Playing in a drum circle? Making God’s eyes? Running in a field of daisies?
All I know is that the stories died down, we paid our check and left the restaurant. As M turned around to wave goodbye I was tempted to motion that she had toilet paper sticking out the back of her skirt but hey…I didn’t.