Sibling rivalry

It's safe to say that I had a rather strange childhood. I have brothers and sisters out the wazoo. Between full, half, step and adopted, I had no shortage of sibling rivalry. No shortage of fights either. Some of them were really memorable!

Brandy

The fights between myself and Brandy were the most memorable. That girl was a born scrapper! We've busted each other upside the head with handcuffs, gut punched and kicked each other, stabbed each other and a whole wicked range of other forms of bodily harm pulled on each other. Yes, I did say stabbed. I'll get to that.  See, Daddy was the type who taught us to never start a fight. But, if one got started we'd damn well better finish it. So if a fight was started between us we were sent outside to duke it out to the point of exhaustion.  I remember one fight in particular, I think it was over the destruction of my mousetrap game, that went to blows. Daddy found out and sent us into the back yard to finish it. Most parents would have put an end to it. Not Daddy. Brandy and I, both still spitting nails from anger, march out into the yard and proceed to duke it out. Daddy said we couldn't stop until it was settled. After about an hour of trading punches to the gut we both ran inside and headed straight for the bathroom. We had hit each other so hard and so often in the stomach that we had made each other nauseous. Imagine that. So, there we were, two kids, one toilet. We took turns throwing up. Now THAT'S a fight!

Brandy got pissed at me for something or other one day and decided to chunk a pair of handcuffs at me. I dodged, which pissed her off even more. This was the day that I realized that I should fight with my legs, rather than my upper body. I was sitting in a chair and she charged me. When I saw her coming I raised both feet, planted them in her chest and launched her across the room. There was another time when I was on the phone and she wanted it. She pestered me non stop to hang up so she could call her friend. I kept telling her to leave me alone and wait her turn. Mother and Daddy were in their bedroom with the door shut, ignoring Brandy's constant complaints. I had my back to her with a fish scaling knife in my hand, just absent mindedly fiddling with it while I talked. When I got fed up with her bugging me I turned to fuss back, using the knife as a pointer, to emphasize my annoyance. What I didn't know was that she had decided to tackle me from behind. I turned around right as she would have made contact, holding the knife up at elbow level. She ran right into it. The tip of the knife went right into her tear duct. Of course I got in trouble. No one even paid any attention to the fact that she only got stabbed because she was trying to take a cheap shot that failed! Oi vey!

When I was first learning to ride a bike I was given a bike three times too big for me. This meant that I had to start off from the porch, just so that I could get up high enough to get on the bike. It also meant that I couldn't stop without just jumping off. Brandy got in my way one day, and when I swerved to miss her, she swerved too. She went in the exact same direction I was trying to go. Both of us aimed for the ditch, thinking that would be safe. Needless to say, I ran over her. Nearly six years later she got revenge. That girl held a grudge! Instead of running over me with a bike, she used a go-kart! She deliberately drove into the bushes, off of the track, to get me! MEAN!

Shannon

Brandy and I beat the shit out of each other on a regular basis, but our fights were nothing compared to our fights with our older sister, Shannon. Any time we were all left alone together it went to an all out, no holds barred, screaming, run for your life fest. That girl was MEAN! I've seen her knock Brandy to the floor, sit on her and try to BURN her hair off. She did the same to me, but she used scissors instead of a lighter. I've broken the bones in the palm of my hand trying to escape her wrath. She pushed me out of a two story window, twice!  I guess she wanted to see if I was cat like. I have a mole on my right shoulder blade. It stands out. Shannon used to pin me down and tell me that a spider had latched on to my back and would kill me if I didn't let her pick it off. She knew full well that spiders scare the shit out of me. When I said it hurt she would tell me that it was because it had it's fangs in so deep. O.O  Yeah. No trauma there.

Sean

My little brother pissed me off one morning. One Sunday morning. It had been raining, and our paper had already been delivered in it's plastic bag. It was the Sunday edition Houston Chronicle, which is very thick. Despite the bag, it had gotten wet. Sean, being a right git and major turd, grabbed the paper and swung it at me. He busted me upside the head with that wet, heavy news paper. I had a coffee mug filled with orange juice in my hand. HAD. I pegged him between the eyes with it. We were rotten little shits!

Over the years I've learned a valuable lesson. All of that fighting between my siblings and myself taught me how to defend myself, which has come in handy in a big, big way! I'm sure Brandy will remember a million other fights that I've forgotten. If she does, I encourage her to post them in the comments. HINT HINT, Brandy. Tell us your version!