After my sister turned 18 she moved down to the basement and with the help of my brother turned it into a bedroom/bar. Every weekend the two of them would throw parties in the basement with my parent's permission. There was drinking and some pot, but at least early on it was a pretty mellow scene. As time went by though the parties started to get more popular and when Hell's Angels started showing up, Mom & Dad got a little concerned!

One night this brain surgeon (I'm being sarcastic here) my sister was seeing was totally strung out on something stronger than pot, so my Dad went down to throw him out. A few minutes later he snuck back in to the house and wouldn't leave, so my Dad called the cops. The cops came in through the basement door and started chasing him through the house. He finally ended up on the second floor of our house, saw a door to the outside, opened it and leapt through it.

Now here's an interesting fact about our old house. When my parents bought it in 1964 it had a door on the second floor that went out to a deck. The deck was in really sad shape, so my parents tore it down and planned to build a new one someday. Sadly for our brain surgeon they still hadn't done that by 1971. I'm sure for about a second after he leapt through the door he thought he was flying. Then gravity set in!

Down he fell and down he fell, until he landed in our backyard with



a big splat! The cops picked him up and took him away and my sister got a new boyfriend. You may ask what the moral of this story is? I think it's probably "look before you leap".