At least once a week I have some sort of extreme marathon phone conversation with my mom. We cover everything including the topics you’re not supposed to discuss: politics, religion, and maybe sex. We gossip about celebrities. The usual. Yesterday we discussed the cruelty of kids. Mom says that’s just part of life and we need to stop acting like the world is coming to an end because Johnny pushed Jenny. Here are some true to life real cruel kid stories in no particular order.
Mom says that when she was in school they had fights. They had a boy champion and a girl champion. They also had look-outs watching for the teachers. [I imagine the teachers, fully aware of this, remained in the staff lounge smoking themselves to an early death and adding liquid reinforcer to their coffee, but I digress.] Apparently they had fights weekly. This culminated in their pitting the boy champion against the girl champion. The girl champion beat his a##! She didn’t say if there was crying, but the boys were very upset. Mom says that no one went home and told, there was a code of honor. Besides, most were used to being beat down by their siblings. [ I think Mom thinks kids these days are wimpy because their siblings aren’t beating them.]
Mom, in a fit of jealous rage, at the age of X, shot my Uncle Dale in the butt with a BB gun because he was going to stay with my Aunt Doris instead of her. Her actions failed to persuade them otherwise. [Well, heck Mom. If you’re going to be packing heat, you’re so NOT a good house guest.]
My sister, apparently not to be outdone, shot our brother Michael in the back with a BB gun. Then as he was running to tell Mom, chased after him, popped out the BB, shoved him down, then ran to tell Mom that a bee stung him. [How is it that we’re not evil dictators running small countries?]
During the pledge, I pulled some girl’s chair further away from her rump than normal. When she went to sit down, she fell. I let the poor kid behind her take the heat. I still feel like a jerk.
I can tell you that I did it to see what being bad felt like. I thought it would be funny, but it just made me feel sick. I would do this again a few more times in life. Every time I thought something mean would be funny, it really wasn’t. Cindy is right, life is not TV.
What about you? Do you care to share your act of uncivilized, unbridled being?