Well, I've been too serious these last couple of posts, so it's time for a bit of levity..
I don't think I've recalled the tale of how I nearly killed my brother, so I think I'm going to relive that small bit of my "glory days", and see how you all like it.
Back when I was nearly in Junior High, my brother was getting ready to enter the big wide world of School.
Now, this was a monumental step for him, because not only was he going to school, but my mom had a really hard time cutting the apron strings, and he actually entered school a year later than most kids. This meant that while I was about the same age as everyone else in my class, my bro was going to be OLDER. This would eventually lead to massive amounts of merciless teasing from other kids, but my mom didn't care.. He was her BABY.
Anyway, suffice to say that my brother and I were close, but it was more of an antagonistic relationship type of close than anything else.
If he succeeded, then I would try to find something that I could out-do his accomplishment with, and vice-versa.
One day, my mom came home early, and came to get us kids from our grandma's house. We would go there after school because both of my parents worked from 6am until about 5pm, this left little time for any socializing with the parental units at all, and seeing them before it was time for dinner was a special treat.
On this day, my brother found out, but he was about 15 steps behind me in getting into the house to see her. Making sure I knew that he was about to "out-do" me in greeting her, he proceeded to shove past me, and take a running leap for her lap.
Now, my mom's not that big, and my brother wasn't the smallest kid in school. She did what any normal person would - She flinched.
This usually wouldn't be so bad, but the fact of the matter was that she was sitting in a bent-wood rocking chair that my grandpa had made. Not only that, but it was still fairly new, and the corners of the edges were still quite stout.
My mom's flinch happened to take her legs out of direct contact with my brother, which ended up with him slamming his forehead against the leading edge of the rocker, splitting it open.
Well, about 30 minutes and 25 stitches later, everything was back under control. My brother still laughs about that incident to this day, and you can't usually see the scar, because it's hidden in the laugh lines on his forehead.
Well, about a week or so later, we were in seventh heaven because of a nice rainstorm that had hit around our house, making the backyard a bit of a mud pit. As the oldest, I usually came up with various ideas of how to amuse myself during the weekends. This particular weekend, I'd found a couple old pieces of pipe that used to be in a wind chime. Finding them hollow, I'd jam one end down into the mud, pull it out, and then fling the pipe at the wall with some amount of force to make an awesome mud splatter on the garage.
I did this for about an hour or so, when my brother came along, and wanted to join in.
*Enter in the William Tell theme*
I got the great idea to try and outline his body with mud. So I convinced him to stand against the wall, and I'd outline his body with the mud that I was flinging from the pipes.
The biggest problem that I hadn't factored into this scenario was that I had NO control over where the mud flew.. In fact, I was only hitting the garage about once every three tries or so, but I didn't tell him that!
My brother agreed, and stood against the wall. I took careful aim with my first tube, and made a lucky strike, hitting next to his left arm.. Thunk.
He was cheered by this, and shouted a couple words of encouragement to me.
Feeling cocky over this success is what led to the next one.
Thwap! Mud from a poorly aimed tube struck my brother just over his left eye! Not only that, but it also had the added gift of a small rock, and had given him a bit of a cut, in addition to the nice shiner he was going to have!
Now my brother, being like most kids, did what they all do. He cried for mom, and went running towards the house.
Me, sensing the inevitable punishment, tried to ward off the impending doom. So I did what I thought was reasonable and rational.
I pushed him down.
Now, this was also poorly thought out, as by this time, he was crying, and unable to see well because of this. Add to that the decreased vision because of the mud and blood in his left eye, and you've got a BAD combination.
Face-first onto the cement steps leading to our back door.
Now, as I'd pointed out earlier in the Blog here, he had stiches..
They broke like a cheap pane of glass.
The thing that went into the house bawling and covered in mud and blood resembled more of something from one of my Scooby Doo cartoons than my brother.
My mom (who is a nurse) acted quickly, and get the bleeding stopped, and my brother taken back to get his head re-stitched, along with a couple more added to just above his left eye. (you can't see these, either.. darn it!)
When they got home, I got the best part of it all.
He'd gotten ice cream, and I got NOTHING.
Oh well, he always was mom's favorite!