Chapter 1 - The First Time I Caught My Parents Fucking

I don't think it's unheard of, or even uncommon, to accidentally walk in on your parents fucking at some point in your life. I wish my first and only experience catching my parents on the job was as straightforward as a fraught moment of unified shock, inevitably followed by the single most awkward sit-down talk with Dad you will ever endure. Unfortunately, I wasn't graced with such a privilege. I was around thirteen when it happened. As a boy of that age in secondary school, striving for popularity amongst your peers was everything. At least, it was for me. It was this juvenile desperation to impress and to be accepted that inadvertently led me down the path towards one of the most grotesquely embarrassing moments of my entire fucking life. It was a Saturday night. My parents were out getting trashed down at the local pub, leaving me with my younger brother, Sean, and his friend, Kane, in the house alone, as they did most weekends. 

Sean was a paunchy stoner kid who loved little more than abundantly indulging in greasy snacks, ripping bottle bongs in his bedroom from dusk until dawn, and meandering around our little town committing petty crimes for amusement - much like I did. If Sean wasn’t outrageously stoned in the house, stuffing his face with clammy kebab meat, then it was a safe bet you could find him robbing local warehouses, breaking into the odd family home, or mindlessly stealing arbitrary items from around the village. 

Kane was one of Sean's best friends from school, who, during this time, had been staying with us more frequently than usual because his stepfather had recently been arrested for repeatedly raping Kane's adolescent sisters over an extensive period. Pretty dark shit, I know. When the police were dispatched to their address to arrest Kane’s stepfather, he did the only logical thing a man in his situation would do – he attempted to sever his own arm with a chop saw. He had optimistically surmised that dismembering his arm would be enough to repent him from child-rape charges in the eyes of the law. It didn't. Nor did he manage to actually cut his own arm off, regrettably. Despite all that, Kane was a jovial, albeit nerdy young lad who loved nothing more than ninjas and playing with fire. Honestly, I can’t think of many times Sean and I hung out with Kane and didn’t end up playing with fire in some capacity. 

We were sprawled around Sean's room that night, playing computer games for what must have been the fourth monotonous hour. Each of us grew irritable with boredom, listlessly festering in our squalor of discarded pizza boxes, snack wrappers, and odious bong water spillages. Without warning, Kane erupted out from the tedium that had befallen us, springing to his feet as he excitedly declared:

Kane: Guys, I’ve got the best fuckin’ idea! We should do some “Jackass” shit an’ film it! 

The show "Jackass" was all the rage in my school at this time. Many groups of young, moronic lads, much like us, were routinely filming their own underwhelming and cringey stunt videos to show off to other school friends in a pitiful attempt to procure more popularity, and I certainly wasn't above that. 

Sean: What d’ya mean by “Jackass shit”?

Kane: Like, some mental stunts ‘n’ stuff!

I paused for a moment, and with a glint of intrigue in my voice, I enquired:

Me: What kinda stunts?

Kane: I reckon we should set ourselves on fire… and film it to show everyone at school!

Me: …

Sean: …

Me: That’s a fuckin’ siiiiick idea!

Sean: What?! ’Ere? In the house? What is it with you ’n’ fire, Kane?!

Kane: Mate, it’s fine! Honestly, the fire doesn’t do anythin’ - look! 

Kane briskly waded towards the window through the musky piles of junk peppered across the bedroom floor and then snatched a can of deodorant from Sean’s windowsill. He gave it a shake, showered his lap and torso with an incendiary plume of body spray, and then promptly set it ablaze. The flames immediately erupted across his body and toward his chest, blanketing his torso in a thick shroud of fire. He leapt through the air in a panic, frantically racing around the room, swatting at his lap like a hillbilly at a hootenanny in a flustered attempt to stub out the fire. Once Kane had gracelessly extinguished the flames, he looked up towards Sean, and I then arrogantly snuffed:

Kane: See! 

Sean and I were jaw-dropped with awe, staring silently at Kane for a few moments before I stretched my hand out and calmly commanded:

Me: Pass it ‘ere, then!

Sean was somewhat more hesitant than I was initially, but peer pressure’s a bitch. At that point, I had already convinced myself that filming ourselves moronically setting ourselves alight would be a surefire way (no pun intended) to get some much-needed attention from everyone back at school, particularly the girls. At that age, I had the charm and charisma of a festering cum-rag, so I needed any help I could get. 

After around twenty to thirty minutes of filming ourselves setting each other on fire, we were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected roaring crash downstairs. Panicked, we hurriedly stopped what we were doing and then quietly wandered out onto the landing to investigate. As we cautiously peered over our rickety wooden stair bannister, my parents bulldozed through the front door below, uproariously cackling at each other like giddy school kids. They were atrociously fucked. I hadn't seen either of them even nearly that drunk in years, and they got drunk all of the time. They immediately knocked nearly everything within arm's length off the windowsill and coat rack as they continued their disorderly escapade into the kitchen to scavenge for food, leaving a drunken path of destruction in their wake. After a short and fruitless raid of the kitchen cupboards, they quickly retired to their bedroom, tottering up the steps like a pair of contorted slinkies in reverse. Once at the summit of the stairs, they both staggered into their room and promptly slammed the door shut behind them. I remember thinking at the time how peculiar it was that they closed the door - they had always left it open for our dogs and cats to freely wander in and out of. I quickly shrugged the thought off, though, and returned to the bedroom, where I found Sean and Kane rigorously wafting the pungent stench of burnt body hair out of an open window. As I watched them frantically fanning the smoke out of the room with a pair of limp pillows, I had a eureka moment - an outstanding idea for a stunt that would ultimately haunt me for the rest of my life. 

Me: Guuuuys! I’ve got such a sick idea for a stunt! When mum an’ dad ‘ave passed out, we should set my head on fire, run in their room, an’ fuckin’ wake ‘em up! Just like Jackass! It’ll be fuckin’ hilarious! And… it’d look awesome on camera!

Sean and Kane glanced at each other, their faces curling with a mischievous grin. Kane looked back over towards me and then excitedly whispered:

Kane: Dude! That would be sooooo fuckin’ funny!

Sean chuckled:

Sean: Ho ho, they'll be asleep in a few minutes ‘n’ all! They're absolutely smashed! Give it like ten or twenty minutes, and then we’ll be golden!

Me: Yeah, perfect! Get the camera ‘n’ shit ready!

Ten to twenty minutes passed. We hadn’t heard a peep from my parents in a while, so we were confident they had both drunkenly passed out. Everything was going according to plan. We slowly crept out of Sean's room and slinked across the landing through the dark towards my parents' closed bedroom door like a trio of amateur ninjas, desperately struggling to abstain from erupting into laughter at the thought of the chaos we were about to unleash upon them. We were all nearly crying with uncontrollable giddiness. Once outside the bedroom door, I quietly shuffled to the front of the pack as we prepared for an abrupt forced entry into my parent's bedroom. Sean stood stoutly next to me with deodorant and lighter ready in hand. Kane perched at the rear with the camera pressed to record. We were ready. I took one last look at Sean and Kane, and they gave me a chucklesome nod to proceed. I bowed my head towards Sean, signalling him to set it on fire. He quickly shook the can, then saturated my scalp with a thick layer of deodorant vapour. He sparked his lighter, jabbed it to my head, and set it ablaze. The flames instantly roared out from the top of my head like a searing coned hat of fire. It was far bigger than I had anticipated, but it was now or never. I thumped down at the door handle and then smashed into my parent’s room like a one-man swat team. I leapt through the dark, prancing around like some cocaine-fuelled hobgoblin - maniacally screaming and cackling at the top of my lungs as a ferocious roar of flames whizzed past my ears.

Me: WAKEY, WAKEY, DICKHEADS! BAHAHAHA!

After the briefest moment of impish joy, I came to a rapid, sobering halt in the centre of my parent’s bedroom at the realisation of the grievous and terrible mistake I had just literally leapt into. I stood immobilised with shock as I locked eyes with my dad, who was standing valiantly at the foot of the bed opposite, ruthlessly ploughing the absolute living shit out of my mum. His clenched fists rooted firmly into the mattress as he grunted and growled like a lecherous wildebeest. My mum laid flat on her gelatinous back, getting pounded like a despondent prison bitch - her legs flailing wildly over my dad's shoulders like two limp fish. The entire loathsome spectacle - illuminated only by the dim, flickering ambience of the foot-long fire cone blazing fiercely from the top of my head like the lit beacons of Gondor. 

Dad: SHIIIIT!

Mum: WHAT THE FUUUUCK!

I remained frozen like a rabbit in headlights as my mum rolled clean off the side of the bed and plummeted onto the floor, ripping the sheets off with her in a futile attempt to cover her grotesque, naked body. My dad - a bearded, beer-bellied, skinhead - confusedly dashed around at the foot of the bed like some wretched sex-yeti, screaming incoherently as he hopelessly scurried around looking for something to cover his still-hard cock with. In an unyielding state of mortified paralysis, all I could do was helplessly watch on as the greasy pair drunkenly scrambled for cover. I felt like Tom Hanks in the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan, powerlessly watching the horrors of war unfold before my eyes as a concussed whistle piercingly screamed through my ears. Unprecedented shame and disgust oozed under my skin like liquid cringe as my parents frantically fumbled through the dark and screamed seething obscenities at me. Eventually, I began to tune out of my shock-induced state of immobility and locked into the sound of my mum furiously screeching:

Mum: GET THE FUCK OUT, CUUUUNT!

With that, I briskly turned around and raced back out the door, slamming it shut behind me. Once outside, I steadily patted out the raging fire on my head and then stared vacantly through Kane and Sean into nothingness, overwhelmed by the repulsive debauchery I had just inadvertently witnessed. After the most awkward short silences of my life, I refocused my thousand-yard stare toward Sean and Kane. They stared back at me gobsmacked - a look of horror washed over their faces like they had just watched a room full of puppies being clubbed to death. I stretched my hand out towards Kane and then lethargically grumbled:

Me: Give me the fuckin’ camera.

Kane gauntly looked up at me and handed me the camera without saying a word. I snatched it from his weary grip, deleted the video, and then slapped it back in his palm before storming through them both towards my room. As I did, my dad barged out onto the landing, stomping his feet in an ungodly fit of rage as he fiercely snarled:

Dad: GO TO BED YA' FUCKIN' CUUUUNTS!

And straight to bed we all went. I never got to impress anyone with our night of failed Jackass-style stunt videos. Instead, I walked away from the experience with a head half-full of burnt hair and the repugnant image of my parents sloppily bludgeoning their withered genitals into each other, vividly etched into my memory forever. At least I never got the sit-down talk with Dad afterwards.