Story Time! Meeting Karl’s Parents - an Animated Storytelling Experiment

Story Time! Meeting Karl’s Parents
(or…My Bf’s Dad Thinks I’m a Slut)

an animated storytelling experiment

 

Story Time! Meeting Karl’s Parents - an Animated Storytelling Experiment

 

When I was about 22, I dated a guy named Karl for a while. One weekend we decided to head to the bay area to visit his parents, and I would meet them for the first time. The first night we were there, he heard about a party in Tiburon. Which is a super wealthy fancytown, so I was definitely in for a mansion party adventure.

 

Karl and I got all decked out in our 90s alternative best. I remember I wore all black (not exact replica but close), my fav shorts & tights combo and ankle boots. And I know we were both sporting our black biker jackets. Cuz we were so fuckin cool. I’m pretty sure we were feeling like hot stuff that night.

Video: Meeting Karl’s Parents | an Animated Storytelling Experiment

Eventually we found the house, got a little lost but finally found it. and it was a total a trip. It was a huge fancy 3 story mansion basically, but 2 of the levels were underground. There was a freakin elevator. No shit. We go inside, and the place is full of bored looking underaged preppy rich kids. Ugh. Not a drop of alcohol to be seen, just a bunch of kids sitting around playing music. We worked our way through the house, wondering why we thought this would be fun. Feeling very poor and very cool.

 

Finally we make our way outside to a patio, okay! Here is where the fun is happening! All the over 21 ppl were gathered by the hot tub, drinking and smoking and having way more fun than anyone we’d seen so far. The kids inside never tried to infiltrate our booze zone, idk maybe it was the younger kid’s brother? No idea. But! We partied our asses off and had a great time!

 

But then later in the evening, I broke the cardinal rule, which I had not yet learned at this young age… never drink shots, smoke a fatty, then go into a hot tub. It just pushed me right over the edge, and next thing I knew I was inside a fancy little bathroom, puking in the fancy toilet. I remember at one point crawling around in my underwear just sick as hell. Classy moves. When we left I just put on the bare minimum I could manage and I honestly don’t remember much about getting home.

 

The next morning we were hugely hung over. Like majorly hung over. Seriously majorly painfully hung over. Very early in the morning, the phone started ringing. It was like the oldest meanest loudest land line ever, you know the really old school phones. It rang so so loud, RING RING RING and then one of karl’s parents would answer it in german and start yelling. GERMAN GERMAN GERMAN. They would take turns and I totally remember thinking why are you yelling, plz stop yelling. This happened several times, super loud brain hammering ring! Followed by loud yelling in german. Omg it was torture.

 

Finally we just got up and went to the kitchen. I remember sitting there staring at a glass of orange juice, trying not to vomit. Just hurting so badly, haha.

 

Karl’s dad came in and chatted with us a little. At some point he looked at me and said in a thick german accent “you wear panty hose last night?” At first I didn’t understand what he was saying, and just stared at him. So he repeated it, and I realized he meant tights, so I said … uh yes. Kind of bewildered. This time the accusation was clear, “Black ones??” Now I’m very confused, and a little afraid, but I answer, “yes?” Before I can figure out what the hell is going on, he leaves the room for a minute. And returns carrying a pair of black tights, between two fingers, out from his body as if it was a dead cat. Or the most vile cootie-filled sluttly slutwear. He just looked disgusted. Because clearly I spent the evening turning tricks on the front lawn.

 

Which I didn’t! But what I did do was drop them on the sidewalk out front, in my half dressed drunken stupor. Of course I did. I was mortified. Hi I’m here to bang your son, let me throw my undies all over your yard, nice to meet you.

 

Luckily I never saw his parents again, but I can really make a first impression that’s for sure.

 

There’s actually a second part to this story so look out for that. I had a lot of fun making this so I’ll probably continue with my bf stories, as they are plentiful and amusing. At least in retrospect.