A Shoutingly Bad Job

(I am old enough that my parents acknowledged that I don’t need my own babysitter, but I am not yet old enough yet to be left in charge of my two younger sisters. My parents leave my sisters in the care of the eldest son of one of my mom’s friends. I end up having to come along because they don’t want me home alone. The son takes the typical teenager’s approach to babysitting by treating me like a baby, despite the fact that he’s only three years older than me, and by forcing us all to go to bed at eight while he stays in the basement all night with his girlfriend. For the entire night, the only interactions he made with us were him shouting at us from downstairs if the floorboards so much as creaked.)

Sister: *gets up to go to the bathroom*

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

Sister: “I have to pee!”

Friend’s Son: “THEN PEE AND GO TO BED!”

(A few moments later my youngest sister, who is only a toddler, runs out of milk in her sippy cup. Because she refuses to go to sleep unless she has a drink next to her in case she gets thirsty in the night, I get up to get her some more.)

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

Me: “I’m getting my sister something to drink!”

Friend’s Son: “YOU ALREADY GOT HER ONE HALF AN HOUR AGO! GO TO BED!”

Me: “She’s out! I’ll go to bed when I get her a drink!”

Friend’s Son: “FINE! HURRY UP!”

(Not long after I return, my sister rolls over and creates a creaking sound.)

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

(I cough.)

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

Me: *under my breath* “I can’t wait until Mom and Dad get back home…”

Friend’s Son: “I JUST TOLD YOU TO GO TO BED!”

(Fortunately that was the only time he ever babysat us.)