The Bed Game

The summer when I was nine years old, I started hanging out with my sister and my next door neighbor. My next door neighbor, Ricky, was a year older than me and my sister, Katie, was three years older than me. We spent our time playing video games together with Ricky’s mom, having sleepovers outside and sometimes working out elaborate basketball plays wherein we would run around Ricky’s driveway forming different letters of the alphabet before ultimately failing to make the shot.

At some point, we decided we needed a clubhouse in which to have our sleepovers, so we begged Ricky’s step-dad to build one in their backyard. Ricky’s step-dad in charge, both families kicked in to by the lumber and build the clubhouse, complete with a little fiberglass window. Ricky’s parents knew we would eventually abandon the clubhouse and they would be able to use it as a shed.

At this age, the three of us were a bit prudish about cursing, so when we discovered that we could use curse words when speaking to each other in the clubhouse without fear of adults hearing, we may have overdone it. We would agree when we got together that we would play the “Cussing Game” and we could say whatever curse words we wanted as long as it was just part of the game. “Shit!” I would say. “This dresser is a piece of shit! Damn it! What a bitch. Shit!” And we would all giggle in excitement. I had a very limited cursing vocabulary back then.

One night, when we were sleeping in the clubhouse, we needed a game to play so we decided to play truth or dare. Most of the dares had to do with writing dirty things on the floor of the clubhouse, and the truths had to do with crushes and such. Then my sister Katie dared us to measure to see who had a bigger wiener.