“Adam, what happened?” I couldn’t think of anything to explain – there was nothing to say but the truth, and so that’s what I told her. I explained, as best I could, the stories I’d read in the newspaper, and how I’d become fascinated with the idea of streaking.
“You mean to tell me that people saw you, running around the track, stark naked?” my mother asked. “They could’ve recognized you! Everyone in town knows us! If I were you, I’d want to crawl under a rock. You seem way too proud of yourself, and your indecency.”
“Mary took my clothes, and I think Carol left me my underpants. They wanted to teach me a lesson…” “Well, Adam,” my mother replied, “The lesson, obviously, didn’t sink in.”
She turned around, took the wooden spoon out of the saucepan, turned off the stove and ran the spoon under cold water. Then she threw the spoon onto the kitchen table, walked over to me, and grabbed me by the earlobe. It was done so quickly, I was speechless, standing there, with a sweaty backside.