t really notice such things.I only saw the inside of two of my neighbors’ houses. The fist was a polish home. The father worked all the time, the mother cooked all the time, and the daughter played all the time. The girl was named Kathy. She was a pervert. In fact, she taught me all about sex. My female cousin, Yaritza, and I would go to her house and play. I think my cousin was also a pervert, although I did not pay much attention to her to notice. I remember on several occasions, Kathy would sit in such a way to give other people a nice view up her skirt. Her mother would not allow her to wear pants. I, being the devilish little boy that I was, always took advantage of the opportunity and looked. It wasn’t long before she caught on, but instead of making sure she sat properly, she stopped wearing underwear. Needless to say, this made me look even more.The other neighbor had two daughters right around my age. Their parents were pretty devout Catholics, but their daughters, like Kathy, were perverts. Now that I think about it, it’s their fault I feel uncomfortable around Catholic girls. Well, catholic girls do not wear pants they wear skirts. I think I am starting to see a pattern in my life that is repeated later. We would play in their living room. What did we play you ask. Well what else would we play? I was the father, they would fight over who was the mother, and the loser would be the daughter. All I can say about that is they knew way too much to be innocent little catholic girls.Somehow I feel there is a moral to be found in all of this. Maybe this is meant to teach parents not to subject their daughters to wearing only skirts. And, not to let little boys alone in the company of their daughters. Don’t let girls and boys interact period, until they are old enough to be married that is...
