Arrested Development

That same reader who sent us the email from his cousin, also recently told us a story of a recent event that had us rolling. A story that hit so close to home that we feel obliged to share it here. A story of three 27-year-old men...and by men, we mean three dudes stuck in a state of Arrested Development somewhere between boy and man.

So our reader, for the sake of anonymity, we'll call him Mapma, was helping his aunt and uncle move from one (legendary) house into another. However the size of the house, and the amount of stuff within it, called for more than just the back of Mapma, so he got two of his friends to come help.

With the first day of hauling and unloading done, the Aunt and Uncle retired to their new digs, agreeing with the three young(ish) men to reconvene the following morning. The three young(ish) men decided to stay behind and clean up a bit before calling it a night.

After a quick clean, Mampa and his two buddies go upstairs to one of the back bedrooms, they shut the door behind them, and proceed to crank up the Zeppelin and fire up the bong. After awhile, with Robert Plant crooning and the herb beginning to seize the senses, Mapma decides to play a little show-and-tell with a recent purchase of his.

On a trip to the Pacific Northwest, our man had stumbled upon a quaint little boutique that specialized in vintage Playboys. What a novel, we mean "porno-rag" idea (pinky out, Dahling). Well Mapma had an equally "porno-rag" idea, and decided to buy the issue from the year and month of his birth. It might be a good conversation piece someday.

That day had arrived, so Mapma pulls out the old Playboy and begins showing of the goods, so to speak. With all the furniture suitable for sitting on, having already been removed from the room, the three young(ish) men sat in a circle around the literature, happily inspecting the retro-bush. Down stairs the front door opens...the uncle had forgotten to leave Mapma with one last bit of important information.

The uncle, following the sultry sounds of I Can't Quit You Baby, made his way to the back bedroom and opened the door. The aroma of ganja smacked him in the shnoz and his eyes were hit with the sight of three grown(ish) men sitting Indian style on some empty carpet, around a porno magazine, equipped with a smoking bong, wide eyes and sheepish grins.

(And now the reason why uncles will always be cooler than dads.)

The uncle, with arms raised over his head and fists clinched, grinned widely and released a stentorian, "Party!!!"