Teen Funs Nansy Site
Then she pulled out a jar of pickles and a can of whipped cream. “Pickleback sundae, anyone?” We groaned, but we ate it. It was disgusting. It was perfect.
Leo went to the audition. He got the part. And somewhere, probably in a different CVS parking lot, Nansy smiled, opened her notebook, and wrote a new line: Phase two: The senior center break-in. For fun, of course. teen funs nansy
Day four, we attempted her signature event: “Slip ‘n’ Sizzle.” She’d laid out a tarp in her backyard, greased it with cooking spray, and then used a pressure washer to create a slip-n-slide that ended in a kiddie pool filled with orange soda. “Live a little!” she cackled as Leo belly-flopped into the fizz. We emerged sticky, scraped, and laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. My hair smelled like discount citrus for a week. Then she pulled out a jar of pickles
The masterpiece, though, was day seven. Nansy decided our local “haunted” mini-golf course was boring, so she staged a fake alien invasion. Armed with laser pointers, a fog machine stolen from the school’s drama department, and a recording of dial-up internet static, she coordinated us via walkie-talkies. We were the “Men in Black” (minus the suits) while she piloted a cardboard UFO from the roof of her minivan. The teenagers working the course actually screamed. The manager called the police. We escaped through a drainage ditch, Nansy leading the charge, her orthopedic sneakers squelching in the mud. It was perfect
On the last day, Nansy sat us down. “I have one final fun,” she said softly. She handed each of us a small, handwritten card. Mine said: You are braver than you believe. Go get lost on purpose.