Everybody Has Those Thoughts So It Doesn't Mean You're Gay

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  Jack entered his bedroom, excitedly looking for his lucky mini-golf outfit. Just after he found it and was about to put it on, his bedroom door swung open.

  “Mom, Cindy came into my room without knocking again!” Jack yelled past Cindy.

  “Cindy, please knock before going into your brother’s room. And Jack, please lock the door if you’re changing. We put a lock on the door for a reason,” Jack’s mom yelled back.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Jack’s little sister asked him.

  “I’m gonna play mini-golf with dad, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I want to go,” Cindy said in a high pitched whine.

  “You can’t come,” Jack replied sharply. “Now get out.”

  “It’s not up to you anyway.” Cindy walked out of the room and yelled to their dad. “Daddy, can I come to play mini-golf?”

  Jack closed the door behind Cindy and locked it.

  “Please, can I come?” Cindy said in a very loud voice.

  Jack changed into his lucky mini-golf outfit and went looking for his putter. As he did he heard a quick jiggle of the door knob, followed by a bang. Those would be the exact sounds of a little sister walking into a locked bedroom door and then falling to the ground.

  “Mom, Jack locked his bedroom door and I can’t get in,” Jack heard his little sister yell.

  As Jack looked through his closet he could hear his little sister knocking on the door.

  “Jack, can I please come with you?”

  “No,” Jack replied back without stopping his search.

  “Pleeeease.”

  “No, now go away,” Jack said without looking back.

  After finding the putter Jack unlocked his door to find that Cindy was gone. He then went into the living room and waited for his dad.

  “Ok, ready?” Jack’s dad asked as he entered the living room.

  “Yep.”

  They both walked out to the car and got in. Jack’s dad reversed out of the driveway and shifted the car into drive. Just as he did Cindy came running out of the house in her mini-golf outfit. She wore a lime green checkered skirt, white top, and a Scottish tam with a fuzzy ball on top.

  “Wait for me,” she yelled as she adjusted her mini-golf club bag on her shoulders.

  Pretending not to hear her, Jack’s dad drove off. Cindy, with the commitment of a boxer hound, ran down the sidewalk after the car.

  The weight of her golf bag made her rock back and forth like a boxer hound wearing a Scottish tam with a fuzzy ball on top. And to add to her commitment, the look on her face said one thing, ‘I will play some mini-golf. Oh yes, I will.’

  “I think Cindy’s chasing the car,” Jack said, looking into the rearview mirror.

  “Yes she is, but she’ll give up.”

  And after a while, one that included them circling the block once, she did give up.

  “Yep, she’s got your mother’s little legs so I knew she’d tire. She put up a good fight though,” Jack’s dad said. “Now it’s on to mini-golf.”

  Jack smiled.

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