Home Alone

I grew up a delicate flower in a boys world. Meaning, I only had brothers and if I was a flower, at the time it probably would have been some kind of flowering stank weed until about the age of 20. Today I was thinking about all the fun we had growing up together when I remembered this story:


My brothers and I would always sneak watch Unsolved Mysteries. If you hadn’t heard of this show, thank your lucky stars because that shiz would make drops of my urine pop out from fear quite regularly. So scary! Even the theme music was spooky. It had been unofficially banned from our house at night because we would stay up late watching it and then freak out all night about being kidnapped or abducted by aliens. But as they say: “When the mom and dad cats were away, the mice shall play!” SO when our parents went out of town overnight on a business trip for my Dad’s company, we were knee-deep in a marathon of “The Mysteries That Shall Not be Named”… or watched, or solved for that matter, before our folks ever got out of the subdivision. It was a lovely late spring evening and the windows in the tv room were wide open, welcoming the breeze of the season. A half hour into the marathon we were jumpy. One hour in we were down right terrified. When we heard that “the killer <was> still on the loose” in the state we lived in, we quickly shut all of the windows, locked the door and turned on every single light in the house. I think there was even discussion of recreating the scene from Home Alone where young Kevin had cardboard cutouts roaming the house on toy trains to make it seem like a party was happening as to escape certain doom. But then I think we got overwhelmed with the amount of work it would take… and our lack of working toy trains… and our inventory of zero cardboard cutouts… that we just decided Ace would make hamburgers on his George Foreman grill instead.


While Ace grilled us up some of his signature crumbly-to0-thick-and-kinda-raw-yet-somehow-burnt-burgers that we didn’t even have buns for, we made a pact to stay up all night and keep watch for axe murderers until our parental units arrived home in the morning. Ace actually came up with the plan mid-yawn. And by 2am, that bish had snuck up to his room after claiming he was “going to be right back, I have to go to the bathroom.” To keep ourselves awake, the remaining siblings; Rhino, Logan and I decided to mess with Ace. So Rhino and I snuck upstairs to Ace’s room, while Logan hid in the closet at the front door. Rhino and I took a deep breath to stop laughing, and then ran around upstairs screaming out “AHHHH! THE FOREMAN GRILL!!! AHHH!!! THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE! IT’S ON FIRE! HELP HELP!” as we banged on pots with wooden spoons. (I’m not sure why the pots and spoons were how we thought fires worked, but Ace didn’t ask any questions.)


Ace shot out of bed in his tighty whities and darted down the steps and into the front yard. It was as if he had been pulled out of the house on a string. There was no rubbing of the eyes or sleepy stumbling, just haul-ass darting out of the house nearly naked. (Besides the panties and ever-fashionable tube socks, that is.)

At first we were entertained, but then we were like – “Hey, he didn’t even look for any of us!” Ace didn’t even look back. He didn’t yell inquiries. There was no “Here! Take my hand! Follow me!” or “I’ll fashion a ladder out of these sheets and we will all climb down to sweet freedom! Together!” Nothing. Not even, “If this shit is on fire, where’s all the smoke?” Just half naked Ace running so fast out of the house he left the front door open and a tube sock at the base of the front steps. Like some kind of stinky Cinderella. Logan popped out of the closet and closed the door. Then we turned on all the outside flood lights and watched Ace walk around the yard for ten minutes scratching his head and climbing over bushes. It might have been one of those “it’s funny because I’m sleep-deprived” moments, but to this day I STILL crack up at the thought of Ace running around the front yard half naked under a floodlight, throwing rocks at the house (he must have not known how fires worked either) while we giggled and watched him through the peep hole.


Eventually Ace came to the front door because he heard us laughing so loudly. He wasn’t even mad. He just was all “Well dang, all I could think was Mom and Dad are going to be pissed if I burned this mother down with the George Foreman Grill!” Again, nothing about his burnt siblings. Bahaha I love you Ace! Brothers are the best!