Last week, among all the other holiday catalogs, we received a book from Victoria's Secret, shiny and glossy and full of lots of voluputous females. I put the catalogs in a pile for recycling, which I take to the boy scout bin about every week or so.
On Thanksgiving, we put the kids to bed early. We have had the contractor here for a couple of weeks now, and he has been fiddling with the electricity. Since the job is not completely done, I have been paranoid about hot wires and the like. As I went down the hall, I noticed that I smelled something hot, like burning rubber.
I opened Rocky's door, and the smell was stronger in there. After sniffiing around for a few minutes like some over-zealous bloodhound, I determined that the burning smell was coming from Rocky's desk lamp, which he initially insisted had not been turned on. However, I resorted to my super powers and felt the lamp, which was hot, so Rocky finally admitted that he had, indeed, been using the light. I removed the lamp and further temptation and discovered a pink eraser stuffed up inside, near the bulb, and showing signs of being overheated.
The next day, I asked Rocky, "Just what were you doing in there last night when you should have been sleeping?"
He said, "I can't tell you at the table."
The girls cried in unison, "Eeeuuwww."
I turned to EG. "This one's yours," I said. He winced.
It turns out that the Victoria's Secret catalog never made it to the boy scouts recycling bin, but stayed here with this boy, who was scouting out the curvy females. EG appropriated the book.
Which, now that I think about it, still hasn't made it to the recycling stack...