She wanted to ensure that everything was perfect for the ritual, that everything was in its rightful place. She had done everything the book instructe.... She had painted a triangle on a wooden board with bees-wax and laid it in the centre of her room. She had placed a bright red coloured candle at each of the three points of the triangle. In the centre of the triangle, she had placed a silver chalice which contained a folded piece of paper. The night had finally come and everything was ready. It. We transported back up to the Tawara and held an all-hands debrief about what went wrong and what went right. My baptism into the dirty diaper club was celebrated. (Yes, I did soil myself. No, I am not ashamed to admit it.)The next day, we did it again. And again. And again. It worked to desensitize me to the sight of Dickheads. Kind of. We started getting through the exercise in a timely and military manner.After several weeks of training, as the company started getting the operation down. “Mom, how far did Uncle Bill get with you? How often when and where?”My dad, in a drunken stupor, told me how he suspected mom of cheating on him with Uncle Bill. I was sure I would win the game because I knew mom would never divulge this to me.“Shit, son,” Mom said as her cheeks turned a deep shade of bright red, her mouth was wide open, her eyes big and round. She swallowed, while looking down, contemplating. I was sure of ending the game. “What happens if I lose the game, son?” she. It’s an old picnic area that I discovered a few weeks ago when I had hiked the trail beyond the park’s boundary to see how far it went. It had poured last night, but the rain stopped an hour ago. I checked the sky. A solid ceiling of dull gray cloud hung low and swallowed the treetops. Hearing distant thunder in the middle of the night I had worried we might be rained out. It wasn’t easy arranging this, and I didn’t want to postpone it. I hoped it wouldn’t rain on my parade. My horny brain.
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