Twisted Sister

When I was young, I use to torcher my little brother, Tony. I was the ultimate mean sister and I am surprised that he talks to me today. We have always been close even though we fought like cats and dogs.

I remember running home from the bus stop just so I could get there first and lock him out of the house. I would laugh and point at him from the window while he begged me to come in. He would start crying and he would plead with me but that little devil inside of me never gave in. After about twenty minutes of leaving him outside, I would finally unlock the door and then I would taunt him, endlessly. That would enrage him and he would start yelling at me and swearing and calling me names. That’s when I would press record on my little tape player and I would play it back to mom when she came home. Boy did he ever get in trouble. It didn’t matter what I did because mom wouldn’t hear of it. What mattered was that I had recorded him swearing over and over again calling me some pretty nasty names. What a naughty and mean sister I was. Not to mention, the one time I had a steak knife in my hand and I threatened to poke him with it (Not stab him, people! I may be demented but not sick AND demented) if he didn’t start swearing and calling me names just so I could record it.

I remember one time when Tony was about three years old. He had this cute white beanie with a red and blue stripe at the base with the pom-pom on top. I put that beanie on him, pulled it over his eyes and spun him around for a few minutes and forced him to walk. The poor kid ran right into the wall. SMACK! He fell on his bottom and cried. I was on the floor laughing hysterically. He looked so damn cute in that beanie too.

I was one of those sisters who used their little brother as a doll. I dressed my kid brother up in dresses, made him wear headbands and put a pony tail on top of his head. I also made him wear cute patton leather girlies shoes and then told him to go outside and play with his friends. I have pictures of this and let me tell you; they make good blackmail props!

Our mom was in the bathtub when this incident took place. I decided that Tony needed a hair cut. So I gave him a haircut; a Bella style haircut. He was about 4 years old and I was about ten. My mom for some reason loved for my brother to have medium length hair. I saw the opportunity of a tail. I envisioned my little brother with a Duck Tail. I made it happened and although it wasn’t perfect, I still gave him a tail. I couldn’t wait to dye it blonde. Well, when our mother got out of the bathtub, shit hit the fan. She was pissed and I don’t mean yelling pissed, I mean coming after me pissed. I ran of course and got away but nonetheless, I still felt bad because after all, he did look silly. Our mother ended up having to take Tony to the Barber’s and having his head shaved because it was badly chopped up. I couldn’t resist it. I had a vision and went for it.

So, as mean of a sister as I was, I still love my brother and I will always remember those days of torture. Here’s to you, Tony. Salute!

PS – If you don’t remember any of this, then it really happened. But, if you do remember, and have the urge to kill me, well then, it didn’t really happen. I was trying to come up with something clever for my blog.