top shelf at Raj’s shop. Sometimes John would sneak into their dad’s room and smuggle it out and look at it. Dennis looked at it too, sometimes, but didn’t find it all that exciting. He was disappointed when the ladies took their clothes off–he preferred looking at what they were wearing.
Anyway, when John “borrowed” his father’s magazine, it wasn’t really like when you borrow a book from the library. There wasn’t an inlay card that would have to be stamped by a bespectacled librarian, and you didn’t incur fines if you returned it late.
So John usually just kept it.
Dennis guessed his dad’s magazine had gone missing again, and he had been looking for it when he found the copy of Vogue.
“Well, I was just looking under your mattress because…” Dad looked uncomfortable, and then angry. “It doesn’t matter why I was looking under your mattress. I’m your dad. I can look under your mattress any time I like!” He finished his speech with the tone of triumph grown-ups sometimes use when they are talking nonsense and they know it.
Dennis’s dad brandished the magazine. “This is going in the dustbin, son.”
“But Dad…” Dennis protested.
“I’m sorry. It’s just not right. A boy your age reading Vogue magazine.” He said “Vogue magazine” as if he was talking a foreign language he didn’t understand. “It’s just not right,” he muttered over and over as he left the room.
Dennis sat on the edge of his bed. He listened as his dad clumped his way down the stairs, and then lifted the dustbin lid. Finally he heard a clanging thud as the magazine hit the bottom of the bin.
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