Three factors. Day off to be had for all, parents away, power outage.
At least I suppose that's what fueled our night. When the power first goes off you think there's nothing to do. No computer, reading, music. So you end up sitting around by candle light talking to people.
Somehow this degenerated. Megan was the first to mention our participation in a new cult. We sat gathered around a cluster of candles banging the table in time chanting, "Pigweed, Pigweed, Pigweed!" Someone laid out a fudgicle in the middle of the candles for us to focus on.
We tried playing "monster billy bally". I had almost forgotten this glorious game. As children it was our replacement for being deprived of horror movies. Every time Mom went out Dad would become the evil Billy Bally. We would huddle on my parent's bed until we worked up the courage to venture into the dark unknown. My little sibs would follow closely behind me. At least, until Joel became the cocky little blond he would prove to be and would boldly lead well shouting that Billy Bally was dumb.
When Billy Bally came roaring out of the darkness we turned an fled. Sometimes making it to the bed, sometimes being fully tickled en route.
We went crusing to check out the source of outage (power pole down on the lower road). As we left the power came back, but we still cranked Brian's techno in Michael's very jammed beater sportster. Renn and Jan followed on the bike. We hit all greens as we burned down main. For Saturday night it was very empty. Summer air coming through the window.
We stayed up too late sharing family stories, gossip, and memories. Oh, the glory of being able to sleep in.