Story Time
My sister was an ideal child. A girly-girl through and through. She loved art and music, horses and ice skating. She was known as "Sweet Pea" and "Precious". My nicknames were "Monkey" and "Pistol". Whereas I was the type of child who needed to be spanked and yelled at (I really couldn't be reasoned with) my sister could get a stern "I am disappointed with your behavior" and it would send her crying to her room, where she would then draw an apology card for our parents. My mom tried the whole "I'm disappointed" thing on me (once) and I responded along the lines of "Yeah? Guess you shouldn't have kids then." I then took off like the wind! Live to fight another day!
The point is, my sister is a sweet soul (genetics are a funny thing, no?). So sweet that she scratched her own name off of a trophy she received and replaced it with mine - just so I could feel good that I had a trophy, too. Yeah, we had a lot of good times and it's mostly laughter one remembers - except in this case.
One day, we got in trouble and our mother had put us in time-outs on opposite ends of the living room. This was the punishment that came before being separated; we'd be beating the living hell out of each other and my mom would storm in with the The Threat:
Am I going to have to separate you two!?
Which we responded to with horrified looks and "Woah, woah, Lady, it's OK. Relax!" She'd leave and we would resume our weird Let's Slap The Crap Out of Each Other "game".
So there we are - serving the Never Ending timeout. I am in my usual dinosaur t-shirt and jeans with hair like an electrocution victim.
Jealous? A lady never reveals her secrets...
The Sister is in yet another dress with her long, long hair done in two pig tails. She calls out to my mom:
Sister:"I really agree with this punishment, Mom, and I *am* sorry, but my legs are getting tired - can I have a chair?"
Mom: "Of course, Sweet Pea."
Our Hero: "Hey! MOM! Can I have one too?"
Mom: "No! Now be quiet!"
I glance over my shoulder at my sister and she turns her head just enough so that I can see her profile and she sticks her tongue out at me. She flips her hair back over her shoulder and turns back to the wall, supremely satisfied.
Oh, it was on, alright.
In a flash, I ran across the room and yanked as hard as I could on one of her perfect pigtails! Haha! That'll teach her! I zip back in place as Ms.Crybaby starts wailing. I am huffing and puffing in the corner - playin' it cool.
My mom comes in, sees my sister's wonky hair (hehehe!) and yells:
"What happened in here!?"
Sister: "She attacked me!"
Me: "What?! *gasp* She's lying! *gasp* I didn't move! See look, I'm right here!"
M: "Room! Now!"
I was grounded for what seemed like an eternity to hyper active child who couldn't tell time. I found myself seething"there is no justice in this world!" while thinking about how I'd get back at my sister. Her and her stupid hair - thinks she so great! We shared a room and suddenly, my eyes fell upon her beloved. Her favorite My Little Pony.
I almost explode when I look at this - you will be mine!
It had stars and planets on its butt, I remember, and she took this thing with her anytime she left the house. I snatched up Wind Dancer or whatever the hell her name was and grabbed a pen.
Right across the butt I scrawled my name in giant letters. My name was all I could spell so, this worked out nicely. I admired my handiwork. It felt pretty good, dangerous and exciting. What else? I thought, what else?
I took the pony into the bathroom and grabbed some scissors. Mohawks are awesome I thought as I hacked away its glorious mane.
I still stand by that thought
On a roll now, I lopped off her tail entirely as tearing it out at the root proved impossible. I stuck her back on the shelf and waited around for my pardon.
After dinner! The shrieking ensued and it is terrible to say but I was kinda delighted. OK, really delighted. Then she began to weep when and the gravity of the whole situation hit home. I was, of course, spanked and then given a big lecture about how we don't hurt people we love and respecting others property blah, blah, blah.
All the while, my sister's eyes bore into me. She was mute for the rest of the night. A few days pass and she is still, by and large, ignoring me. I had gotten over the whole thing pretty much. That is until one day, I came back in from playing outside and head into my bedroom. I flick on the switch (which controlled our sweet 80's fan/light combo fixture) and I look up to see a mass lazily spinning around.
Sweet Mother Have Mercy
There, spinning at 120 rpm, was Petey! My Cabbage Patch doll! The horror!
I was frozen as I watched his now bearded face smile out at me! She had drawn on a beard in permanent marker and then - AND THEN - she covered him with ketchup from head to foot! My poor little Petey was now a Bloody Hobo. A dead bloody hobo tied to my fan!
I like to think that Petey came out OK
I screamed and my mom and dad came running in. My dad takes one look and says "I don't have any idea what the hell is going on here nor what the hell to do about it." and walks off. My mom called in my sister and we got a big talk about why we shouldn't do these things and if we learned anything from this. Which we both probably answered in our minds with "Yeah, that she's an asshole."
I never really tried to get her again after that day. I did genuinely feel bad about her pony but mostly, I had learned that you can't trust the quiet ones.
The stories of causing your sister emotional distress are pleasing to me.
ReplyDeleteIt had stars and planets on its butt
What of value does not, eh?
Oh, sisters are a great joy. I have 3. My oldest sister used to sit on me, pressing my face to the floor and slap my exposed cheek over and over...then she would encourage my younger sister to join in the fun...FUN.
ReplyDelete@Evil Blam- so true. That's why I got stars and planets tattooed on my butt long ago.
pootous- the formal snooty way of describing a fart. Please excuse me, I did pootous.
Oh nuts, I was the quiet one. I am the second of 4 girls - no boys - and we were all born within 7 years. The Drama (yep, it needs to be capitalized and perhaps have its own postal code).
ReplyDeleteRest in peace Mom.
Oh my. I shall be forever disturbed with the vision of a bloody cabbage patch doll hanging from the ceiling.
ReplyDeleteIt's a true story.
ReplyDeleteAlso, younger siblings have magical invisibility powers.
My little brothers used to be able to walk into a room where my parents and I were, hit me, and run away without being seen.
Without fail, I would get in trouble for chasing them down for doing so.
Damned invisibility spells.
Ha!!
ReplyDeleteIn my family, we STILL hit each other just for the fun of it. In fact, one of the new year's resolutions we forced on Twin just a few weeks ago, was to not hit as much.
ahh, good times.
I have to say, Joan, that 'Pistol' is a completely awesome nickname.
ReplyDeleteMy childhood sounds a lot like yours, with the time outs and the lectures (and the occasional belt - ah, it was a different time), except that neither me nor my little brother was the 'quiet one'. I think we were both like you, Joan. Childhood was fun!
@Your Friendly Neighbourhood Spi.. er, Palindrome: Thank you, my friend, for your definition of 'pootous'. The coffee dripping from my keyboard was totally worth it.
@Batcabbage- LOL, you're very welcome.
ReplyDeleteI guess I got away scot-free most of the time. The dynamic was this: I, being the more subtle older brother, would tease my brother-nemesis until he'd hit, whereupon Mother would storm in and unleash the fury (spankings, room-exile, chores, etc.; thank goodness we never did "time-outs"). I was devious, though. If I timed it right I could fire off a stinger and then get my brother to hit me just as Ma was walking into the room, then with a strategic whine or two, the day would be mine.
ReplyDeleteStill a sour spot between us, though. Guess I may have overdone it.
Hilarious tale, well-written and brassily narrated. A joy to read.
@Evil Blam - "What of value does not, eh?"
ReplyDeleteAaaaahahahaha! Delightful!
@Palindrome - LOL - pootus! I heard once in 7th grade (so mostly likely a huge lie) that in a certain language, they called farts "Prumps." Mmm, prumps.
@Melanie - 4 girls! In 7 years! God love her!
@Achinghope - You and me both, sister, you and me both :)
@Frank - I was always the fall-guy too. Damn siblings.
@Falen - I love it! Not to stop hitting...just to not hit as much. :D
@Batcabbage - Thanks! Haha - it was a damn good time...not for my parents but for me!
@Postman - Thanks! Ha, you and Frank are telling the same story from opposite sides of the line.
I'm the older brother, and was totally like your sister: the quiet, dignified, seemingly innocent one one while my brother was a holy terror, but I still managed to pick on him relentlessly. It's a wonder we're still friends, and he's not a serial killer.
ReplyDeleteTrue story, I once threw him through a wall.
We were arguing, and I think he was trying to get into my room or something (an age-old battle for us). I was in high school at the time, and it had been awhile since we had an actual physical confrontation.
So when I shoved him out of my doorway and into the wall across the hall (as I'd done countless times through the years) I was a little stronger, he was a little bigger, so this time, when he hit the wall, it crumpled.
My brother got up, dusted himself off (our quarrel forgotten). We looked at each other and said "we're not going to be able to hide this one from mom and dad...".
While we continued to verbally snipe at each other after that (and still do, on occasion) that was the last time we ever physically fought one another. :)
@Teebore - It's a wonder we're still friends, and he's not a serial killer.
ReplyDeleteHahahahaha!
The last Rumble in the Jungle my sister and I had was when she was 17 and I 14. It basically degenerated into her trying to jam her fingers into my ear canal (effective!) and me trying to vault her off of me with my legs. At one point in time, we fell over a chair, prompting our mom to say "You're both a couple of morons". She was right :D
Haha... Yeah, the other day my brother and I were fighting in the kitchen (well, I was trying to hit my brother and he was laughing at my failed attempts) and we managed to topple ourselves on the ground. I have a bruise on my knee to prove it!
ReplyDeleteMy mum shook her head and tried not to look worried. Maybe it's because I'm almost 21 now, or maybe it's because my brother is almost six feet tall and could kill a gorilla with his bare hands.
Gorilla meat makes excellent pizza topping, eh.
ReplyDelete...
Verification word: You'll thank me.
@Achinghope - Aw, cute, your mom all nervous and trying to hide it:) I never had a brother, I think if I had, I would have been in loads more trouble.
ReplyDelete@Evil Blam - I love your VWs. Say, were you on the Lost chat today at noon?
Oh, yes. Sibling love. I am the oldest of five (yes, AchingHope is only one of my many siblings) and my next youngest sister (not AchingHope) and I used to bicker like mad when we were say, 8 and 12, and our mom's favorite punishment was to make us sit BACK TO BACK until we could get along. It NEVER worked. I am telling you what, there is nothing more irritatin than having to sit, touching the person you hate the most on the planet at that moment.
ReplyDeleteFortunately we both survived and get along swell now :)
VW: exhzxmme- what you say after a particularly messy sneeze.
Your unrequited affection for my textual prowess is well documented, eh, Ms. Joan, and has begun to cross the rubicon of desperation. As to your query, No, I would not be caught dead at such a thing.
ReplyDelete...
Verification word: Which apparently makes one of us, eh.
PS: I did, however, lunch upon a lost cat at that hour, if you must knooow.
ReplyDelete@Evil Blam - Aaaaaaaaaahahahaahahah! Oh man, I have tears in my eyes! Not of sorrow (sorry to a disappoint) but of hysterics. Oh my Lord, can I borrow "Crossing the Rubicon of Desperation"? Hheheheheheheee!
ReplyDeleteStill LOVE your comments :D
Oh my Lord, can I borrow "Crossing the Rubicon of Desperation"?
ReplyDeleteIt appears that Ms. Joan has decided upon the title of her memoirs, eh. Yes, by all means, twist my proose to your oown selfish ends, and please send tributes of maple-sugar candies posthaste.
...
Verification word: Failing availability of the candies, gold bullion will do in a pinch.
HAHAHAH! You are killing me!
ReplyDeleteYou made me laugh out loud with this, which, for a mother of a two and four year old is sometimes impossible. My sister also had perfect hair, but she and my brother wrote on Baby Tender Love with a permanent marker. Curse them. They were older and I never got back at them.
ReplyDelete@faith - Hey! Thanks for coming to my blog :D
ReplyDeletefor a mother of a two and four year old is sometimes impossible
I hear you, Mama, I hear you. Laugh or cry. Or was it cry then laugh? I haven't had a decent sleep in 6 years so I really can't say.
Baby Tender Love. Oh! I have no idea what a Baby Tender Love is...was that the name you gave it? I call my baby "Baby Sweet Love" sometimes and then she slaps my face. Ah, motherhood :D