Me: I’m an innocent.
Mager: I believe you are secretly not innocent.
Me: I have gaps.
Me: Hmm… I should blog that.
Here’s what happened.
My dad felt that it would be okay if my brother saw an R-rated movie for his birthday party, but there was no way C—’s mom would allow C— to see Porky’s. But, somehow Quest for Fire was okay because it was “an art film.” My mom had to chaperone my-brother’s-friends-whose parents-weren’t-cool-enough-to-let-them-see-Porky’s… and me.
My brother finally did catch my first R-rated movie in cable when he was in college. Of course he was shocked because Quest for Fire puts Porky’s to shame.
When he recounted that observation to my parents, I added, “I remember seeing that. I hated it because there was no speaking, only grunting.”
“Haha! You were like nine!”
“That was a horrible movie!” Mom rejoined, “I had to put my hand in front of Terry’s eyes for nearly thing. And he kept shouting, ‘Mommy, mommy are they done pumping yet?’ The whole theatre could hear it. I was so embarrassed.”
Ahh! Quest for Fire—one of those movies that makes you wonder What the fuck was MPAA ratings board was smoking at that night?