There was a woman our family knew who had some sort of disability. (I don't know. I was probably six years old and it was the early 80's and there was no such thing as politically correct in those days).
Anyway, her name was Francis. My little sister Kasey and I were terrified of her because she was in a wheelchair, which made her more 'our height' then other adults and her hands were all crunched up into fists and she looked about a hundred years old. Kelly knew we were terrified of Francis and exploited that by cornering us at our house and saying the name "Francis" over and over in a voice sort of like the Wicked Witch of the West.
"Fraaaaaaaan-ciiiiiiiiiiiisssssss"*
*Remember, we were KIDS.
Of course, after a while -- it became less and less about being afraid of real-life Francis and more and more about being afraid of Kelly saying her name at us.
One day she took it too far. Our basement stairway had a door at the top, with the light switch outside in the kitchen. So you could shut the light off on people who were in the basement and that's exactly what Kelly did to Kasey. She shut the door, turned out the light and taunted Kasey with the typical "Fraaaaaaaan-ciiiiiiiiiiiisssssss". For way too long. Pretty soon Kasey was screaming bloody murder for Kelly to let her out of the basement. And Kelly would have but Kasey was totally freaking out and so Kelly started getting scared of the retaliation Kasey was probably planning. Kelly kept the door shut a little longer, hoping Kasey would calm down a little bit. Finally, Kasey stopped screaming. Kelly opened the door. Instead of pounding her fists on Kelly's chest, Kasey just wrapped her arms around Kelly's neck and held her really tight and cried and cried and cried. And then...and only then...Kelly felt bad.
_____
YEARS later...Kelly called that story into a radio station who was asking for mean older sibling stories and they wouldn't air it because it was TOO mean.
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| These days I get my revenge by posting unflattering pictures of her butt. |
For me, I remember my brother Pete forcing my mouth open with his fingers and then farting into it. What's your mean mean older sibling story?
6 comments:
When I was about 6 or 7, I went ice fishing with my oldest brother (I'm the youngest) and his friend. It was the first time in my life I'd done any kind of fishing. My bro's friend had the idea that he needed to fart in my face and was chasing me around cuz obviously I wasn't willingly going to let him, so I had pleaded with my brother to help me.
He helped alright. He pinned me down on my back while I looked up in the sky and then his friend's butt right in my face and let it rip.
It was the last time I'd gone fishing...ever.
This pales in comparison to your story, though. A fart in the mouth? Now that's a severe case of bad breath.
haha that's awesome. Your memory of it, in slow motion, looking at the sky, pretending to be somewhere else. You must still have nightmares.
I'm so trying to envision how he held you down with one hand, held your lips open with the other and farted into your mouth it's cracking me up.
I read this yesterday and cracked up and I'm still thinking about it and cracking up.
Was it so much him forcing your mouth open with his fingers or your screaming wide-open mouthed, "nooooooo, don't faaaaarrrr in myyyyyyy moooouuuuuth!"
I'm with Kelly, I can't figure it out but it's making me laugh.
Kim -- probably the latter. I still make that joke all the time.
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