Ok, so Wicked H over at Avert Your Eyes had this post on her siblings and it reminded me of a favorite family story about a different type of backseat adventure.
I have three uncles on my mom’s side. My mom is the baby and was regularly abused for being the baby and the only girl. Not that my mom has ever whined or wept bitterly about this. Aside from the WWII re-enactments in the backyard (this was the late 50’s and the world was a very different place) where she was always the nurse and ALWAYS the casualty of friendly-fire within the first 5 minutes of the game. This would be my uncles’ way of “playing nice” with their sister.
My oldest uncle I have mentioned before. He is nothing short of Father Christmas to me, having given me a truly magical lesson in the simpler joys of Christmas mystery and delight when I was very young.
My other two uncles are satan’s hench men. Horrible, self-righteous, lying, manipulating, abusive, disgusting pigs. I’m being as nice as I possibly can. I’d love to shed some light on some of the most vile, dispicable, behavior known to man, but it’s not my place to get into it.
Suffice it to say, these men are the lowest form of human being.
I say that so you won’t feel an ounce of remorse for the following story. In fact, I hope you get a sort of wickedly, perverse delight in it.
I’m thinking this would have been the early to mid 60’s although, my mom has never put a year on it. But, I imagine this would have to be the case. On Sundays my grandparents liked to take an afternoon drive and look at model homes. My mom and the youngest of her three older brothers, R, would be held hostage in the backseat with remnants of the weekend’s homework assignments to finish up for school on Monday.
Mom and R would sit in the backseat while my grandparents toured the model homes. On one particular occasion, R was being his typical shit-self. He would lean far over the front seats and come flying back down landing hard on the bench seat while my mom attempted to finish her homework. Distracting, to say the least.
Finally, frustrated and unable to write anything because of the bouncing baboon next to her, MM (my mom), decided to take action. Everything slowed down and there before her was her brother’s ass ready to come down onto the bench seat, again. There, in her right hand, was a rather dull pencil…
MM looked at the pencil and looked at her brother’s ass, there wasn’t much time to make a decision, but I am 100% convinced the right one was made that day. She took her hand and placed it on the bench seat with the pencil point UP just as R’s ass came thundering back down.
Let’s say, that to this day, a boy has NEVER leapt up from a backseat so fast.
MM said that it took several hard tugs (all with R. screaming like he was being murdered) to pull the pencil out where it literally was protruding out the back of his pants and was, without a doubt, lodged successfully into the deepest regions of his ass…
This, my friends, is what you call “tearing someone a new asshole.”
MM was laughing so hard she was sobbing. My grandparents scurried out of the model home to see what was wrong with their kids and immediately drove them home. Later in the bathroom behind a closed door my grandparents examined R’s new orifice. All the while my mom sat outside listening and laughing so hard she was still crying.
MM didn’t get into trouble because my grandparents were convinced it was an “accident” and that she was “overwhelmed” with guilt, why else would she be sobbing and unable to catch her breath?
I’m willing to bet that R has one heck of a scar to this day. And, that is the LEAST he deserves.