Chapter 8

It will come as no surprise to most of the readers that this is not only fiction but bald faced lies. The author has been known to stretch the truth past breaking. He is fully aware that Monster Millions is his own creation and does not exist in reality. He is also cognizant of the fact that this an alternate reality. The names might be real ... the people are not. If your name is in here ... it’s not you ... any of you.

Mummy and daddy said sure.

“I have a possible date for the homecoming dance after the game.”

“Ask your mother,” daddy said. But, not until he had carefully looked at me.

“Ask your dad,” she said.

“He said to ask you.”

“Passed the buck, did he?”

I grinned ... she did too.

“Fathers are like that,” she said.

“Yes, they are.”

“Will you need condoms?”

“On the pill.”

Come Friday week, I will have been on that pill for two months ... to the day.

“There are other dangers to sex than pregnancy,” she said. “I have a video.”

We watched as a family outing. The boys had seen it ... several times.

“Yes,” I said, “That was scary.”

She gave me five condoms. I put them in my ‘going out’ purse ... a far different bag than my ‘school’ purse.

Then she told me how old she had been ... first time jitters ... back seat of a 1949 Oldsmobile ... how her mother had reacted. How she was determined that her children would have more fun and less guilt at home.

“That’s why everyone of you have kingsize beds and soundproof walls.” She grinned. “Bring him home.”

“Use the hottub,” daddy said, “Whether we’re in it or not.” He went back to his den. Mom went back to the master suite.

“So I can go to the dance?” I was asking the air but my brothers answered.

“Sure, who is it?”

That was the twins. Mikeal, Mike ... and Marcel, Mark ... the seniors. Artur ... Art, the 10th grader, not wanting to be left out of the inqusition, was all ears.

“Not sure,” I said. “I needed to prime the parents.”

“Well ... who asked you?” Mike and Mark said like the twins they are.

I could go on and on about how badly I hate it when they do that ... and when they finish each others sentences ... but I won’t ... I’ll just say it makes me mad as hell ... and just a teenincy bit jealous that I don’t have a twin so I could do it to them.

“Nobody,” I lied.

THAT got a look.

Confession is good for the soul, they say. I fessed, “Everybody.”

“Everybody?”

“Yup ... every senior, junior and sophomore male in the school ... attatched or not. They all want a chance at this.” I preened, threw my shoulders back and pirouetted. The brothers popped woodies. I grinned. “Same as you three do. Ain’t happening boys. Your shit stinks.”

From down the hall, mom said, “I heard that.”

“I told every one of them I’d have to ask the parents. I left the possibility open ... but...”

Ah ... the suspense ... I let it drag on for at least 30 seconds.

“I’m going to ask Rodger Blankenship.”

“The NERD?” One said.

“You’re going to ask Mr. Geek?” Someone else piped in.

“Vi ... how could you?” Art asked.

“He’s ugly...” that came from the trio.

“He has a beautiful brain.”

“Good choice,” mom said. “I picked your dad for his brain.” Mom had wandered in from the master suite.

“What?” That came from downstairs. Daddy has a selective brain ... he hears all and sees all and selects what he wants ... the rest he ignores. Believe me ... he would have heard that from the garage.

“Yes, dear. I picked you. Warts and all.”

Footsteps on the stairs and stomps in the hall.

“I don’t have warts.”

“You have a terrible memory.”

“I do not.”

“You told the MP’s that Violet weighs 290 pounds and is five feet tall.”

“I did?”

I nodded.

“Who are you, young lady? One of the boys teachers? What have they done now?”

“See,” mom said.