In October of our senior year, we decided to go to a spook walk west of town. I don't know that either one of us was really into scary things, but it seemed like the thing to do. I drove my parents' station wagon, which had three seat belts in the front seat and two seat belts in the back. I'm not really sure why I felt compelled to tell you that because what's more important than that is that the seats were vinyl. Vinyl seats in the 1980s were practically indestructible. That is important in this story.
We took along our friends Angela and Deborah, who were both redheads and also seniors, and our friend Angie, who was a junior. I'm sure at that point in time in our lives, we thought we were pretty cool, and Angie probably thought we were big dorks.
As we lined up waiting for our group's turn to enter the haunted woods or forrest or whatever, the tour guide reminded us to stay with the tour, to not be afraid because the characters on the tour couldn't touch us and to not run. "There are props out there and you could trip over them." I remember him saying that because I thought he said "preps," and I thought it was weird that we would trip over preps. And why were preps scary? Did they only have one swatch on? Did their Izods have collars that wouldn't stand up? Were they {gasp} wearing socks with their Dexter loafers?
Our tour started, and we entered the forrest. Some ghoul kept following me around saying, "Hello, Heather." I still have no idea who it was. And even though we stayed with the tour, we were very afraid. We screamed and hollered and grabbed each other. It was a great time. I think.
Just as we were able to see the end of our journey into the hell we had paid $3 for, they brought out the big guns... or rather chainsaws. As best as I remember it, there were no less than 162 ax murderers wielding chainsaws and sporting hockey masks that came running at our group. I remembered that they couldn't touch us, so I stood right where I was, clamped my eyes shut and screamed bloody murder with my hands over my ears. Angela and Deborah probably grabbed each other and screamed or giggled. They were way braver than I was. Angie and Susie, however, broke the rules.
They ran. They ran so far away. They ran both night and day and couldn't get away.
Angie took off running, and Susie ran right after her. They forgot about the
The rest of us followed Susie back to the Aries K. Angela and Deborah got in the backseat. Susie had been in the middle when we arrived because she was the shortest and didn't need much leg room. As we left, though, she insisted that Angie be in the middle. Susie sat on the passenger side right up against the door.
"I'm wet," Angie giggled as we pulled out of the parking lot. "How'd I get wet?"
Wet? What did she mean by "wet?" Still, Susie was quiet.
I pulled onto the highway and asked, "Where are we going now?"
"Home." Susie had broken her silence.
"Home? To your home?" I asked incredulously. It was still early. We were at least an hour away from our midnight curfew.
"Yes," Susie curtly answered, "I need to change my pants."
The "When Susie Pee'd Her Pants" is The Daughters' favorite Halloween story.
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| This is Susie a few years ago. She looks exactly the same as she did in high school. In this picture she was NOT singing along to Mamma Mia. And, as far as I know, she was wearing dry pants. I could have found a high school picture, but I don't know where they are. That's not true. I do know. I'm just too lazy to go dig them out. That and all of high school was grossly awkward. |
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