Monari's 101 Club was your typical small-town Italian restaurant, and my family's favorite when I was growing up. Many a night was spent there, yakking it up with the other regulars and family friends who happened to be dining out that night as well. As you can imagine, being regulars ourselves, little rituals would grow out of the greetings with the owners, and we practically had our own table, situated right in the middle of the main dining room.
Again, this was quite a while ago, and people were much more relaxed about under-age drinking back then. By the time I was 15-16, I was allowed to have a drink during dinner, and my drink of choice back then was a vodka gimlet. Being the youngest, this also meant that my brother and sister were also partaking, and the whole table would get a little tipsy and giggly during the course of dinner.
I seem to recall that we had guests eating with us that night, as the table could seat eight and I remember it as being full. I have no idea who the guests were, but my best guess would be some very close family friends, so the adult/child mix was most likely 5/3, and my brother, at 20YO, could have easily been counted in the adult column.
Now, as you might guess, if you have a bunch of adults sitting around the dinner table and drinking heavily, sooner or later, the topic of sex is going to come up. I don't recall exactly what my dad said, but it was along the lines of "Cathy and my sex life is pretty normal." to which I piped up with, "Having sex on the Lazy-Boy is normal?"
"What do you mean? Your mother and I have never had sex on the Lazy-Boy."
"Never? It was just last week. I was trying to get some homework done the other night, and you two made it impossible to concentrate."
"What are you talking about? This never happened."
"I was sitting down in my room in the basement, while you two were watching TV (the living room was directly above my room). I could hear you two kinda mumbling to each other, but I didn't think anything of it until the Lazy-Boy started creaking regularly. Squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak."
At this point, of course, I started getting some giggles from the table, and of course, that caused me to ratchet up the presentation a little, so you can imagine that my voice and gestures got progressively louder and more expansive through the rest of this speech.
"So I said to myself, 'Okay, Mom and Dad are having a little fun upstairs; I can just ignore it'. But you two kept at it. Squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak. And then you started to really go at it and the Lazy-Boy started to come up off the floor. Squeak-squeak bam, squeak-squeak bam, squeak-squeak bam. Dust started falling from the ceiling onto my desk and homework. Squeak-squeak bam, squeak-squeak bam, squeak-squeak bam. This went on for ten minutes. I couldn't hear myself think. I figured you'd finish up sooner or later, but you kept going. Squeak-squeak BAM, squeak-squeak BAM, squeak-squeak BAM. The cats were cowering in the corner. Larger pieces of dust and grit were falling from ceiling. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the broom and banged the end on the ceiling. BAM BAM BAM BAM. 'Hey, keep it down up there! I'm trying to study.' There was dead silence. A few seconds later I hear you and Mom tiptoe off to your bedroom, and I could finally finish my homework."
As you can imagine, at this point, the entire table is practically rolling on the floor laughing, and Dad weakly protests with, "You're making this up, Jack. This never happened; I would have remembered it."
"No Dad, it did happen; just last week. Ask Mom."
We both turned to my Mom, who was beet-red from laughter and a bit of embarrassment. She's trying desperately to control her laughter, and the best she can manage is vigorous nodding to indicate that, yes, it had happened. She finally gets out, "You were drunk Fred." before going off on another round of giggles.
After some more good-natured ribbing from the friends, the topic is changed and dinner resumes, and eventually we all go home.
Years later, I learned from my mom that she was quite upset at me after that night. Not for telling the story, per se, but for the effect it had on Dad. He told her that halfway through my speech, he had glanced around the restaurant, and saw that the entire dining room was completely engrossed in my tale; complete with wide eyes and open mouths. This incident had embarrassed him so much, that he refused to have sex with her without thoroughly checking the house to see if any of us were home until we had all moved away to college.