During my formidable years, my father was the proprietor of several "college" bars (and even, at one point, a strip club*). While this offered my teenage counterpart a smattering of experiences that would otherwise have been held off until college, it was also the cause for many an unfavorable side-effect. For instance: many nights, my father would bring home a friend or employee, whose drinking had rendered non-existent his ability to walk or drive. Upon returning home- usually around 4 or 5 in the morning- he would come into my room, steal the comforter off of me and give it to the vagabond on our sofa. The couch in our living room saw many a drunken buffoon over the years. I quickly grew tired of this bullshit and concocted a plan, with my best friend at the time, to ensure this behavior was discontinued.
So one unassuming Saturday night, my father came home and, true to form, stole away my comforter. After snatching it off the bed, he found the two of us- my friend and me- arms wrapped around each other, even a leg, pretending to sleep. It no doubt took his brain longer than usual to process exactly what he was staring at. Slack-jawed and in total disbelief, he backed up slowly, dropped the blanket and let out an "ugh". It was the last night he came to take my comforter.
While we never discussed this event explicitly, it set a precedent for awkward conversations which began with a talk about my sexual preference. The comic below is a recreation featuring penguin stand-ins and a filter to make sense of his garbled wisdom-gems (brown-boxed).
bewbz rawk*It was in this very strip club that I found out who shot Mr. Burns (Spoiler: it was Maggie Simpson).
Words by Brain - Comic by Ruler
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