Back by popular demand is a story that most of you will remember. If you have heard, keep reading. You might find some details that you missed in the church sanctioned version.
I was fifteen. My best friend at the time was Jay Fondren. Jay lived down near Smith Lake. He was actually about 250 yards from it. He lived up on top of a hill. His grandmother, Nanny, lived on the lake just at the bottom of the hill from Jay.
I likely drove over to Jay’s. At 15, I would beg my parents to let me drive there. It was only 2 miles away, and it was in the country. There are many benefits to living in the country. Learning to drive a truck at 13 is one of them. I am sure I drove my parents’ little Volkswagen. It was a diesel.
Jay and I decided that we would walk down the hill to his Nanny’s and spend the night. We had rented a move on one of those handy VCR tapes, the good ole days. As usual, Jay fell asleep in the floor. I sat on the couch and finished the movie. That was pretty common. Jay would go to sleep and talk in his sleep. I don’t mean he would mumble. Jay would speak full conversations.
I was on the couch. I didn’t have a pillow or any cover. That is the only reason that I think why what happened next, actually happened. I don’t recall sleep walking before this time in my life. But, how would I have known. I guess you can sleep walk and never know it unless you wake up somewhere else. The last thing I remember is watching the movie.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, I must have gotten up. I can only figure that since I was on the couch that I felt like I needed to be in a bed. I have no recollection of walking anywhere. But, I realized the next morning that I had.
You know how you feel when you wake up in the morning. It was Saturday morning. I had nowhere to go. Before I opened my eyes I knew something was wrong. I felt very warm and comfortable. I felt like I was wrapped up by a squishy grandmother. I slowly opened my eyes. I suddenly shocked into a fully awake and aware state. I was in the bed with Jay’s grandmother. I wasn’t just in the bed with her. I was face-to-face cuddled up with her. Once my eyes opened, she looked into my eyes, and said in a shaky, morning, granny voice, “Mornin.” I froze in total fear. The awkward part was getting out of the bed and leaving the room. There was this silent pause like you have probably never experienced before. I walked out of her bedroom into the kitchen. There sat her husband, legs crossed, smoking a cigar, and laughing under his breath. I would find out later that he was also in the bed with us, not a king size but a double. I made him scoot over and crawled in between them. God have mercy on me.
Of course Nanny had to talk to me about it. She had to laugh it off. I personally wanted to pretend like it never happened. Wouldn’t you? She felt the need to point out that her door was right by the basement door. She said, “Honey,” interesting that she now was calling me honey. “Honey, at least you didn’t open the door to the basement. You could have fallen and been hurt or killed.” I responded, “I wish.” It’s a lot easier to explain falling to your death down the basement stairs than it is crawling in the bed with your best friend’s grandmother. I did start getting a lot of calls from senior centers after this.
I was fifteen. My best friend at the time was Jay Fondren. Jay lived down near Smith Lake. He was actually about 250 yards from it. He lived up on top of a hill. His grandmother, Nanny, lived on the lake just at the bottom of the hill from Jay.
I likely drove over to Jay’s. At 15, I would beg my parents to let me drive there. It was only 2 miles away, and it was in the country. There are many benefits to living in the country. Learning to drive a truck at 13 is one of them. I am sure I drove my parents’ little Volkswagen. It was a diesel.
Jay and I decided that we would walk down the hill to his Nanny’s and spend the night. We had rented a move on one of those handy VCR tapes, the good ole days. As usual, Jay fell asleep in the floor. I sat on the couch and finished the movie. That was pretty common. Jay would go to sleep and talk in his sleep. I don’t mean he would mumble. Jay would speak full conversations.
I was on the couch. I didn’t have a pillow or any cover. That is the only reason that I think why what happened next, actually happened. I don’t recall sleep walking before this time in my life. But, how would I have known. I guess you can sleep walk and never know it unless you wake up somewhere else. The last thing I remember is watching the movie.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, I must have gotten up. I can only figure that since I was on the couch that I felt like I needed to be in a bed. I have no recollection of walking anywhere. But, I realized the next morning that I had.
You know how you feel when you wake up in the morning. It was Saturday morning. I had nowhere to go. Before I opened my eyes I knew something was wrong. I felt very warm and comfortable. I felt like I was wrapped up by a squishy grandmother. I slowly opened my eyes. I suddenly shocked into a fully awake and aware state. I was in the bed with Jay’s grandmother. I wasn’t just in the bed with her. I was face-to-face cuddled up with her. Once my eyes opened, she looked into my eyes, and said in a shaky, morning, granny voice, “Mornin.” I froze in total fear. The awkward part was getting out of the bed and leaving the room. There was this silent pause like you have probably never experienced before. I walked out of her bedroom into the kitchen. There sat her husband, legs crossed, smoking a cigar, and laughing under his breath. I would find out later that he was also in the bed with us, not a king size but a double. I made him scoot over and crawled in between them. God have mercy on me.
Of course Nanny had to talk to me about it. She had to laugh it off. I personally wanted to pretend like it never happened. Wouldn’t you? She felt the need to point out that her door was right by the basement door. She said, “Honey,” interesting that she now was calling me honey. “Honey, at least you didn’t open the door to the basement. You could have fallen and been hurt or killed.” I responded, “I wish.” It’s a lot easier to explain falling to your death down the basement stairs than it is crawling in the bed with your best friend’s grandmother. I did start getting a lot of calls from senior centers after this.
Comments