As a young mother who cooked, sewed, had a job, and three kids born in 1971, I was over-the-top busy and keen to provide my children with educational experiences. When the Oscar-winning Chariots of Fire came to the video store, I dashed out to rent it, thinking the movie would be yet another educational experience.
The movie was an educational experience, all right: Little did I know the video store had the caveman pic Quest for Fire on the same shelf as Chariots of Fire. Grabbing what I thought was Chariots, I plunked my six-year-olds in front of the TV and exited, stage righteous.
Assuming the grunting I heard was the exhaustion of the runners in the movie, I looked in to find my kids on the carpet, propped up on their elbows, fixated on the TV. Even the dog was engrossed in the movie.
I entered the living room just as the Neanderthal men - covered in nothing but mud - began buggering the women washing their exposed privates at the river. Shrieking, I jumped over kids and dog to stop the movie. The buggery scene (aka the “river scene”) is so graphic YouTube won’t let anyone see it unless they sign an oath in blood swearing they’re over 21.
The “river scene” has been forever seared into the memories of my now-middle-aged kids. Never the same after that movie, the dog had to be neutered.
© Nicole Parton, 2020
