My mom snuck me into my first slumber party. Mrs Avis' daughters Celeste and Estelle were hosting a slumber party for all their scoutmates - including my sister Sandy. Getting one kid out of the house wasn't enough for Mom, so she had a talk with Mrs Avis, assuring her that a six-year-old boy would be a harmless addition to the festivities. In fact, I wouldn't be the only boy; Mrs Avis had an eight-year-old boy, Max. Not knowing any better, the moms thought we would get along.
We were among the last to arrive, but we got there just before the pizza, so I thought we were just in time. Sandy made me get two slices for her, while she tried to find her spot in the basement with the other 24 girls. My spot was already picked out; the floor of Max's room. Max was there with his pizza, a TV relocated from the basement for the night, and Yars Revenge on the Atari.
When I got upstairs, Max was playing the Atari, which only had one controller. On the floor, half the room was taken up by the coolest Autobot ever, Omega Prime - when he wasn't a robot, he was an army base, with a moving tank on its own track, plus a rocket ship. I couldn't play with it, I couldn't touch it, and I certainly couldn't move it to make room for my sleeping bag. When I asked my turn, he said he was going to be a while, so I should just go downstairs and get some chicken pox. I asked him what chicken pox was.
Max got shot, so he put down the joystick and told me. "It's a disease grown-ups want kids to have. You get itchy spots that make you scratch like a chicken." Max went on to explain that the girls were invited over so they could get the chicken pox together - and that's why Max was staying in his room.
The safest route was to stay in the room - and my contribution would be enough pizza to make it through the night. I went downstairs, where four half-empty boxes of various flavors remained. Celeste caught me mixing slices into my own box, and told her mom; when I told her why Max sent me, Mrs Avis said it was okay. But I noticed Celeste scratching her head while she was talking.
Max had locked the room by the time I returned with the pizza. He said I couldn't come in until I made sure I didn't have any germs from the girls. I put down the box and went to the bathroom to check myself. In the mirror, I examined myself thoroughly: I checked my head, in the same spot Celeste was scratching; I checked my face and chest, my feet and hands... When I went back to tell Max I was clean, the pizza was gone. I started crying; after a minute, Mr Avis saw me and sent me downstairs, so he could talk to Max.
When I got downstairs, there was no pizza left on the kitchen table. It seemed a logical place to hide, so I ducked beneath with a blanket over my head. Somehow, a few of the girls found me and tried to take the blanket off me; fear overtook me, and I screamed, "No germs! No germs!" I started kicking and flailing under the kitchen table, until Mrs Avis found me.
My mother was called, and I got a ride home. Mr Avis returned my sleeping bag and sent me home with the box of mixed pizza slices (on the condition that my parents would also have some) and the Omega Supreme tank (on the condition that I would return the rocket in a few days.) I didn't catch chicken pox that night; I would get my case five days later, after Sandy had brought it home. Mindful of the six-year-old's concept of karmic retribution, I gave the rocket to Sandy, who took it to school and gave it to Estelle, who took it home and gave it back to Max, still in bed, still spotted, and still blotched in calomine.
inspired by Discover Magazine article, "HPV Vaccine Shows Dramatic Success"
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