OK, so this guy I follow, who uses the name Fandango, is a great writer. Usually funny with a twist. Anyway, he is attempting to start a writing challenge. He says “… I’m calling this prompt ‘Storytime.’ Each week I will ask you to tell a story about a specific topic. You can write about the actual event as it happened in real life, or you can create a fictional telling of that event. It’s your call… In recognition of the fact that I just conceived this prompt: Tell the story about the night (or day) you were conceived.”
And though I wanted to submit a photo, thankfully my parents did not believe in cameras in the bedroom. So, my take….
I liked this idea, though I am not crazy about visualizing the night I was conceived. I mean, you’re talking about my parents. That’s like bordering on the disgusting. Who wants to visualize their parents actually doing “it”? But I do have a story for you. And every word is true.
I was home from college for the summer. I think I was around 22 at the time, which would have my parents pushing 50.
I had been out to a movie. It’s late, all the lights in the house are out as I tiptoe towards my room in the back of the house. I hear a noise and stop. I can barely make out the voices of my parents. My mom is giggling like a much younger girl. At that point they have been married around 28, 29 years. Anyway, I figure they’re still wide awake so I walk down the hallway towards their bedroom. Their door is open, the lights are out, so I say, “Hi!”
My mom squeals, there’s a bit of rustling, then my dad yells, “The one night I get it up and he walks in!”
As I said, every word is true.