Is That A Mouse In Your Pocket?

I woke up thinking about Brian P's penis this morning. An odd thought to have nearly 20 years after the fact, but there it was as fresh as the morning sun streaming into my windows.

I remember that there were four of us all nestled in the back room of my grandfather's camp, zipped up tight in our sleeping bags attempting to sleep, though the noise from behind the door spoke of the good times our parents were still having.

As for me, I remember being more concerned about the mice. I'd seen their droppings earlier in the day and wasn't exactly thrilled with the premise of sharing my living space with them, imagining instead the horrible disgustingness of mouse fur and whiskers against my bare skin and the bloodcurdling scream I would yell when and if the little demons managed to chew their way into my bag.

Cousin Danny was in the far corner, his bag away from the door, while my older sister Amy was on the other side of Brian who was lying between us both. While Danny kept to himself, Amy and Brian were busy whispering in what I was sure was some diabolical plot against me, as the two often joined forced to make my life miserable. (Like the time Amy stuffed freshly mowed grass down my throat just because it was there and she was trying to impress Brian ... Brian however got the surprise of his life when I tackled him to the ground and gave him a bit of the same treatment until one of the adults finally pried me off him, howling and kicking like a little mad woman.)

Shucking the warmth of his sleeping bag, Brian made a big production of stretching as he lurched to his feet.

"You girls ever see a real penis before?" he asked, standing there in his tidy whities, his hands confident at his sides.

Amy and I both shook our heads no from our collective sleeping bags.

"Make you a deal," Brian said. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

Cousin Danny moved from his corner of the room, his newly deepening voice breaking into the conversation. "If anyone shows anyone anything, they won't have anything to show ever again," he said, in a burst of protectiveness, before returning to his world of isolated silence.

Brian sat back down dejected, deciding not to take the chance of irritating a boy much older and stronger than himself. But I could tell he wasn't completely sold on giving up the idea.

The rustling of his sleeping bag should have been a warming for me to close my eyes, instead my eyes tried to focus harder through the dark, moonlit room. Raising his covers just enough, he grinned as he gave me a flash of everything that was going on down there. In any case, I couldn't suppress the "eeew" that came flying out of my mouth. A mistake on my part as cousin Danny was on him in a flash.

"What did I tell you about showing my cousins things they don't need to see," he yelled, flipping Brian and his bag across the room.

"I was just having a little fun," Brian laughed, although it was one of those please don't beat the tar out of me nervous kind of laughs.

But Danny wasn't having it.

"You can sleep over on this side of the room for the rest of the night," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor very far away from us.

Brian reluctantly dragged the remainder of his things to his little island of exile, as Amy sniggered beneath her blankets.

As for me, I was glad for one thing. It had taken my mind off the mice.