Knock 3 time...on the ceiling if you want me...

During my teenage years my house was a hang out for MANY. I had about five or six close friends who were always over at one time or another. The two that were over most often though were my best friend Jeremy and my best friend Tracy.

Now Tracy and I had our fare share of crazy antics but, this story will be about Jeremy and my little sister Smokey Smurf.

BACKGROUND:
Our house was as close to being white trash/borderline ghetto as you could get in our small town. We had three bed rooms, a small bathroom, a descent sized kitchen, a living room, and a dinning room that were opened into each other. I’m going to spare you the details of “how” the rooms looked. Just know that they were the victims of home improvement. Yes, I did say victims.
We also had a couch that was older than dirt and rather than our parents spending $50 on one from good will they spent closer to $100 on an ugly-ass polyester couch cover.

YES, it was embarrassing.

The thing about it was that so many people who came over didn’t care. There was little supervision around and we could come and go as we pleased. It was every teen’s heaven (unless you had to live there). My mom always kept the kitchen well stocked with junk food and a whole lot of other crap that wasn’t part of the major food groups.

Now, my friend, Jeremy, came over when he wanted to and left when he felt like it as well. I remember many a time when “we” would be gone and then come home to find him sitting on our couch eating something.

“I was wondering when you’d be back?”

No one thought anything about it. He was just like having another brother. Only one who you could have fun with and call at 4 AM knowing that he’d answer the phone and talk with you until we both had to get up and go to school. And he was the only boy who my parents let us have in our rooms behind closed doors. (Probably because we spent so much time dressing him up like a girl…or having him do my hair and burn me on the leg with my curling iron because I wasn’t cooperating.)


THE STORY:
Well, we were sitting in the living room watching the Exorcist for the 300th time one night. Smokey Smurf had been wandering around the neighbor hood and my Dad was pissed. After “the lecture” she stormed into her room. Her room’s door was right behind the front door in the living room. [It also opened up into my room but, you had to use a giant pair of scissors to turn the “knob” (well, where the knob used to be)…remember I said borderline ghetto]
At any rate, she didn’t mind that fact because when our brother moved out and up to Norman she was just happy to have her own room (ME TOO!). And she could just secure the chain latch if she didn’t want to be bothered.

And she didn’t want to be bothered that night.

Jeremy was kinda like the “mediator” in a since and was “going to go talk some since into her” or some other crap. Hell, it’s been too long.

I tell him, being the wise older sister that I have always been [:)], tell him…to leave her alone and let her sulk it out of her system. It had hurt her pride to get in trouble in front of company—even if it was only Jeremy.

Do you think he listened? NOPE! As a matter of fact, I hurt his manhood by my implying he couldn’t make things better and he stormed across the room to gain entry to Smokey’s room.

Would he knock? No.

He merely threw his arm in front of him to open the door and kept going.
The thing of the matter is…she had the chain lock in place.

So when he threw his arm in front of him and kept going, the door didn’t. As a matter of fact, it rebounded right into his nose. HARD! So hard in fact, that he flopped on his butt and I had to get up and make sure he wasn’t bleeding.

Now, I know it’s not what he intended but, he did accomplish what he set out to do, only in a different manner. As Smokey was set on staying in her room and sulking, the “door fiasco” had gotten her attention. As in, she (and I) was laughing so hard at what had happened that she decided to placate him and join us for some horror flicks. I mean, after all, he cared enough about us that he nearly broke his nose to try and make things better.

Hell, even my mom was laughing so hard that she had to leave the room.

...And "we three dorks," watched horror flicks the rest of the evening; Smokey and I took turns at getting Jeremy more ice for his nose; and we reminded him for weeks and weeks afterwards when he came over…on the importance of knocking on a girls door.

Even then, every time he knocked on her door…our hysterical laughter erupted into incoherent cackling…But he DID knock, on her door at least.