Shoes. They were the first items to come off. Giggles. “No,” they all said. Socks were next. More giggles. “No,” they chorused. My shirt. I had a T-shirt underneath. I could at least keep that on to hide my adolescent bacne. Outright laughter. “NO!” Off came the T-shirt, too. The laughter continued. “Think!” they shouted. All I had left was my underwear and my pants. Off came the pants. “Oh my God.” Murmurs of concern from my fellow teenage partygoers. As I sat under the bedsheet, I replayed the game's instructions in my head: Take off everything you don't need.
Héctor Hernández put his degree in civil engineering to good use for twenty-seven years. He is now retired and writes whenever inspiration demands his attention.