It was a blazing hot Saturday evening in the summer of ’57, and young Fred was all spruced up for his big date with the ever-charming Peggy Sue.

He slicked back his hair, polished his shoes to a mirror shine, and cruised over in his dad’s prized Chevy. When he rang the bell, Peggy Sue’s mother opened the door with a warm smile.

“Oh, come on in, honey! Peggy’s still getting ready,” she said sweetly. “Have a seat. Want something to drink? Lemonade? Iced tea?”

“Iced tea would be swell, ma’am,” Fred replied.

She brought him a glass and sat down like she had all the time in the world. “So,” she said with a grin, “what are you and Peggy planning for tonight?”

Fred shrugged, trying to sound cool. “Maybe a movie, a burger at the malt shop, then maybe a stroll down by the beach… real nice and easy.”

Peggy’s mom leaned in and said cheerfully,
“You know… Peggy loves to screw.”

Fred nearly choked on his iced tea.
“Uh… I—I beg your pardon?”

“Oh yes,” she continued, totally unfazed. “When she goes out with her friends, that’s all they do!”

Fred blinked.
“All night long, if we’d let her!” the mom added with a nod, as if she’d just said Peggy liked hopscotch.

Fred, now trying not to pass out, managed a polite, “Well… thanks for the heads-up…”

Just then, Peggy Sue floated down the stairs, picture-perfect in her pink blouse, hoop skirt, and a ponytail that bounced like it had its own personality.

“Hi, Fred!” she chirped, and off they went.

Half an hour later, the front door flew open and Peggy Sue stormed in, wind-blown, red-faced, and furious.

She glared into the kitchen and shouted,
“THE TWIST, MOM! THE DANCE IS CALLED THE TWIST!”