Growing up my best friend was Cory Paul Parker. He lived on Cherry Street in our small town. Cherry Street wasn’t anywhere near my street, I lived on Wallace Avenue and consequently next to a real live crack house. We’ll talk about the crack house later; I made it inside once despite my mom’s best efforts to keep me away from it. Anyway, Cory lived on Cherry Street like I said, he had a basement, a fenced in back yard and a really cool room. Cory was having a sleep over or a party or both one-day, and being Cory’s best friend, I was invited over. The party was sometime after school on a Friday, being young time was meaningless. We had a concept that time was there and we were allowed to do things at certain times, but other than that, it was meaningless.
Cory and I decided that said time was inappropriate, so we; being very smart and sophisticated second or third graders, decided that I’d just ride with him home and miss the bus. Great idea guys! This plan has zero issues. Oh wait accept we forgot to tell our parents.
I showed up with Cory at his mom’s station wagon and to our surprise she wasn’t absolutely thrilled to see me. No, in fact she was annoyed. She had to get the house ready for the party. We had to call my step dad and let him know I wasn’t getting off the bus too. You know, that sort of thing is kind of important. Parents tend to worry, even if they’re just recently out of the federal penitentiary.
So occasionally I’ll remember this whole fiasco and to this day I’ll feel a little guilty, so Mrs. Parker, I’m sorry. I should have gone home, you’re right. That party was a bitching ass party though, so kudos! I’ve never seen such a huge tub for bobbing for apples and the prizes you sent home with us were pretty awesome too.
~Thanks again for lighting up a poor kids life the way you guys did~
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