Because you all apparently enjoy my stories, here's another gem.
A few days after my sixth grade year wrapped up, Provo was hit with an incredibly strong storm. It was called a microburst and, among other things, it knocked down countless trees and power lines around town, blew my neighbor's trampoline across the street and entangled it around a chain link fence, and whipped siding off of homes. We were left without power for about three days.
About a week after the storm, I was invited to my friend Kari's house for a birthday sleepover. Among those invited was a girl from our class named Linsey, who, despite the fact that she spelled her name completely wrong, was a nice enough girl. She had been living in a camper trailer by the river when the storm hit and blew a tree on top of the roof, practically splitting the trailer in half. For one of the party activities, we all decided to take a walk down to see the damage -- it was pretty impressive. I'm surprised that she, and everyone else inside it at the time, came out with only minor injuries.
Linsey's bruises, which were mostly located on her hip, started bothering her early in the evening, so she asked Kari's mom for a heating pad, and went to sleep early. When I got over the shock that for pretty much the first time EVER I was NOT the first girl at the slumber party to call it a night, I enjoyed staying up with the other girls, playing games and giggling in the dark about boys.
Soon, though, our whispered conversations were interrupted by stirring from the corner where Linsey slept.
"MY UNDERWEAR'S ON FIRE!!! MY UNDERWEAR'S ON FIRE!!!" she suddenly yelled out, completely startling the rest of us.
We jumped and skipped a breath simultaneously before we grounded ourselves enough to investigate the situation -- and also to fall on the floor laughing at the hilarity of what she just said. Apparently Linsey, who was still sound asleep, was getting too hot under the heating pad.
Someone volunteered to turn off the heating pad, and Linsey rolled over. In the morning, she had no recollection of her fire.
4 comments:
Oh, dear *Laughing*. That's the last thing you want to shout in your sleep at a sixth-grade sleepover.
That's the best sleepover story I've ever heard!
hee hee! So not only did she have a poorly spelled name (silly parents!), she had no home and everyone teased her about her pants being on fire for the next 6 years. I'd have been begging to move.
I loved your story! I'm still laughing as I post this comment. Thanks for sharing.
-Jeff
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