Flashback Friday: Who’s laughing now?

I was about 11 years old. My friend, let’s just call her P (to save her from total embarrassment), was about 9.

We had just eaten lunch. Or dinner. Maybe a snack. I’m not sure, it was a long time ago!

One of us didn’t eat our chicken. Most likely me, since at that stage, I was probably the fussiest, pickiest, most annoying eater on the face of the planet, surviving pretty much only on turkey hot dogs (preferably cold), cheese pizza, macaroni and cheese, breakfast stuff (i.e. pancakes…), and of course, my personal favourite, deserts.  I certainly didn’t eat chicken, unless it was all mushed up and stuffed inside a deep fried nugget and branded by McDonalds.  That kind of “chicken,” I loved.

We went out to the balcony at the back of the house.  No sense in wasting the chicken, might as well give it to the dog.  One of us threw it over the railing.

Plop.

It somehow managed to land in the only bucket full of water in the entire vicinity of the balcony.  It’s not like we were looking where we were throwing, we just threw things and called it good.  Just a little toss off the side and the dog would come a runnin’.

We didn’t even know there was a bucket of water beneath the balcony.  We were not expecting that noise!

Being easily entertained juveniles, we thought the chicken plop noise in the bucket was the funniest thing ever.  We looked at each other in unison, breaking out into uncontrollable laughter while trying to peek over the railing to see the bucketed chicken.

We couldn’t stop laughing.  We stood on the balcony in hysterics for quite a while.

But then P stopped laughing.  She had this look on her face.  This oh-my-gosh-what-just-happened, no-way-I-did-not-just-do-that, horrified sort of look.

I looked down.  She was in a puddle.  Her not-so-awesome-but-were-very-in-style-at-that-time stretch pants now sported a giant wet patch.

I laughed harder.  The fact the chicken going plop in a bucket of water made P laugh so hard she peed her pants was absolutely hysterical to me.

Until I realised that those weren’t her pants at all.  No, she was wearing my pants.  She peed my pants.

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