It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and with both parents in China and my brother at a scouts camp, I had the entire house to myself. Naturally I made a few calls to the Scam bros.
“Hey bros, I have the whole house to myself for the next three days. No adults around… No one to supervise us… Are you dudes thinking what I’m thinking…?”
Five hours later:
Rather than the drug-fuelled, alcoholic rave party we were supposed to hold as respectable youths of our generation, we ended up belting out various Taylor Swift songs while dancing around the room in an accurate, yet probably disturbing imitation of 9 year old girls having a slumber party. The night is pretty much a blur of singing, yelling and ass shaking now, but I’m pretty sure there was crying at one point. And hugging. And a sobbing declaration of “I love you guys man”. I won’t say who. Ok it was me.
After the testosterone depleting activities of the night, we woke up determined to do something earth-shakingly manly the moment Royce and Waisum arrived – something so studly and savage that in the future legions of Lumberjacks and Sailors would look back at the paragons of Machosculinity (that’s right, I just created a word) we became on that day and weep in inferiority.
Having come to this decision, we bumped our fists together, roared our agreement to the heavens, and then stomped into the kitchen to cook a nice, low fat meal.