The Joy of Little Sisters
Thursday, June 9 – 15 days to go until Black Friday. But for once this isn’t all about me. Nope, today we celebrate my “kid” sister’s 38th birthday. "Hippo Birdy Two Shoes", Alie! (Sorry – that was the most beaten to death pun in our family, usually said by our older and wackier sister. But since she’s not here to do it, someone had to. It’s tradition, you know.)
Anyway, Alie and I get along fairly well nowadays, as we did when we were kids. The teen years, though? Let’s just say that they were tumultuous at best. But now that we’re older and wiser (or at least older), we get along swimmingly. Perhaps it’s the fact that we’ve matured, or maybe it’s because there are now 1,600 miles separating us. Either way, it’s nice to have Alie as a sister.
As kids, it was my goal to tease her as much as humanly possible. (I had a charter membership in the Annoying Big Brother Club, let me tell you.) It’s no wonder I had welts on my head from where a thrown hairbrush, shoe, etc. would connect with my skull. (Alie wasn't much of an athlete, but when using a hairbrush as a projectile, she could outpitch Nolan Ryan.) But despite the pain, it was worth it. My best stunt however was the one that took the most patience. She’d pissed me off over something I can’t remember, and I decided to slowly take revenge. So every day I snuck into her room and removed exactly one item. It was usually something small – her hairbrush, some makeup, her favorite rainbow-colored socks with toes, or that goddamn over-played Pat Benetar 45 (“Fire and Ice”. Still makes me scream to hear it today.). I stashed all of these items in a shoe box in my closet, and waited for her to notice.
She didn’t say anything at first, but I did notice that she seemed to be spening an awful lot of time looking underneath her bed, behind dressers, and under piles of dirty clothes. Her room was usually a slop hole anyway, so I suspect that she blamed the missing items on her lack of organization, and not her cruel brother. She tried whining to our Mom about the disappearing stuff, but Mother Dearest knew the state of Alie’s room was less than tidy, so there was little sympathy there. The more she searched, the more I laughed...to myself. It was great fun to watch, in a sadistic sort of way. I'm just sorry I couldn't have sold tickets to others to enjoy. (And to think - this was well before Pay Per View. I would've made a fortune.)
This continued for about a month and a half. My shoebox of Alie’s personal items was now overflowing, and had to be transferred to a large box I’d used for baseball cards. Finally, the day arrived. She asked me if I knew where her stuff was.
Now, I could’ve dragged it out for another month or so by denying any knowledge – a simple “What would I want your stinky-ass Love’s Baby Soft for?” would’ve sufficed. But instead I told her to wait there, and I went to the closet, got the box, and dropped it in her lap.
The look on her face? It was a combination of Christmas, her birthday, and extreme anger, all rolled into one. Half of her comments were about me and what I should go do to myself, while the other half was “I’d been wondering where this was.” Heh, heh, heh. She never did try to get revenge; she really was a smart girl deep down. I may have caught yet another brush to the temple as punishment, but once again – it was soooooo worth it.
So happy birthday, Alie. And no, I don’t have a box of your junk to this day...
...or at least not that you know about.
Anyway, Alie and I get along fairly well nowadays, as we did when we were kids. The teen years, though? Let’s just say that they were tumultuous at best. But now that we’re older and wiser (or at least older), we get along swimmingly. Perhaps it’s the fact that we’ve matured, or maybe it’s because there are now 1,600 miles separating us. Either way, it’s nice to have Alie as a sister.
As kids, it was my goal to tease her as much as humanly possible. (I had a charter membership in the Annoying Big Brother Club, let me tell you.) It’s no wonder I had welts on my head from where a thrown hairbrush, shoe, etc. would connect with my skull. (Alie wasn't much of an athlete, but when using a hairbrush as a projectile, she could outpitch Nolan Ryan.) But despite the pain, it was worth it. My best stunt however was the one that took the most patience. She’d pissed me off over something I can’t remember, and I decided to slowly take revenge. So every day I snuck into her room and removed exactly one item. It was usually something small – her hairbrush, some makeup, her favorite rainbow-colored socks with toes, or that goddamn over-played Pat Benetar 45 (“Fire and Ice”. Still makes me scream to hear it today.). I stashed all of these items in a shoe box in my closet, and waited for her to notice.
She didn’t say anything at first, but I did notice that she seemed to be spening an awful lot of time looking underneath her bed, behind dressers, and under piles of dirty clothes. Her room was usually a slop hole anyway, so I suspect that she blamed the missing items on her lack of organization, and not her cruel brother. She tried whining to our Mom about the disappearing stuff, but Mother Dearest knew the state of Alie’s room was less than tidy, so there was little sympathy there. The more she searched, the more I laughed...to myself. It was great fun to watch, in a sadistic sort of way. I'm just sorry I couldn't have sold tickets to others to enjoy. (And to think - this was well before Pay Per View. I would've made a fortune.)
This continued for about a month and a half. My shoebox of Alie’s personal items was now overflowing, and had to be transferred to a large box I’d used for baseball cards. Finally, the day arrived. She asked me if I knew where her stuff was.
Now, I could’ve dragged it out for another month or so by denying any knowledge – a simple “What would I want your stinky-ass Love’s Baby Soft for?” would’ve sufficed. But instead I told her to wait there, and I went to the closet, got the box, and dropped it in her lap.
The look on her face? It was a combination of Christmas, her birthday, and extreme anger, all rolled into one. Half of her comments were about me and what I should go do to myself, while the other half was “I’d been wondering where this was.” Heh, heh, heh. She never did try to get revenge; she really was a smart girl deep down. I may have caught yet another brush to the temple as punishment, but once again – it was soooooo worth it.
So happy birthday, Alie. And no, I don’t have a box of your junk to this day...
...or at least not that you know about.
posted by Tommy G at
8:08 AM
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