Curfews

It's 11:51 on a Friday night when I think to text my Mom and tell her what I'm doing.
>We're watching Once Upon a Time.
A few minutes later, I get a reply.
>Which episode? Is it okay with them if u stay later?
I smile and put my phone away. She knows exactly where I am-indoors, just down the street at my friend's house. She dropped me off herself because I didn't feel like walking. Besides, it's entirely possible an ax murderer could have been lurking behind mailboxes, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
He'd have to be a short ax murderer.
My four friends and I sat around, talked about everything, and painted our nails. When we discovered one of our number had not yet been introduced to the wonderful world of ABC'S Once Upon a Time, we were forced to take drastic measures.

No, no, we did not dress up in pretty wedding gowns and stab her. That would have ruined the fabric. We sat her down in front of the TV and had her watch professional actors dress up in pretty costumes and stab people. They're adults, so it's perfectly safe.
The episodes are around forty-five minutes long, and we couldn't watch just one. So that's how I came to be sitting on the couch, eating skittles, so very late at night.
I'm one of the lucky ones-I don't have a curfew. The subject hasn't come up yet (and hopefully never will). My average Friday night is spent in front of the computer, toiling away on the latest portion of my acursed science fair project. Which I happen to be procrastinating right now. Last Friday night was practically an adventure.
I can see how parental curfews could be necessary. Some teenagers like to play with sharp objects (while not wearing protective wedding dresses) or participate in other such activities. Legal curfews make sense as well-if you happen to live in one of those big cities populated by conveniently sized ax murderers. My life, not so much.