Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Hiding the Little Sister

Thanks, Unhappy Hipsters, for dredging up a happy memory and making me feel like crap.

Someday he’d remember which pod contained his sister; until then, her
piercing cries cut into his practice time.
I have to confess. I need to confess. I will feel better if I confess.

I did this to my sister.  I didn't lose her, of course, but I did hide her in a  pod...if a dryer can be called a pod.

She got over it. Eventually.

It wasn't on.  And her piercing cries did cut into my practice time. 


  1. This is very subjective; it depends upon: 1)the number of sibs
    2)the ratio of genders
    3)the brattiness of the contra gender
    4)one's position in the hierarchy.

    The greatest factor in all is how pious one can look when asked where's your sister and the answer given is "I don't really know."

  2. Understand, brothers have quite a different view of juvenile sisters who get everything.

  3. Oh, she was spoilt, all right. Luckily, I had two sisters younger than me, and they were ready made for siblish torture. Once, I frightened the youngest with a threat that there was a many knife toothed, nine eyed, slime oozing zork in the basement, and had the little brother dress up like one...strangely, that was also where we kept the dryer. Hmm. Coincidence?
    It is amazing what papier mâché, poster paints and a long, hot summer day can produce when the spirit moves.


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