We arrived home, exhausted, after a day of birthday partying (my cousin's 14th) only to discover that our street has been barricaded, and there is a large posse of minivans that have taken up residence. Apparently this is the Second Annual Pepperrall Crescent Party, at which everyone and their children consume large amounts of sugar and alcohol, and keep us awake all night long.
The very loud and very obnoxious band has set up their stage in the driveway next door. Think Billy Rae Cyrus + the Barenaked Ladies + a really bad Vegas Elvis impersonator. Then combine those three, add in someone who cannot play the drums, and a backup singer who has a terrible lisp. Add in the fact that my bedroom window is STUCK OPEN, and the fact that I have to wake up early for church tomorrow. Toss in some hyper cats, and a father who HATES people.
Oh gosh. Make it stop. They are BUTCHERING Summer of '69.
Make the sickening covers end.
The flyer states it will end at 10:00. It's 10:05. Dad's giving it another half hour before he calls the cops. No joke.
Plus, the band has named themselves 'The Spicy Hot Chili Peppers'. I'm not joking. There are people out there who are actually that sick.
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