Disney+: Now with 20% More Legal Shenanigans!

Gather ‘round, kids, and let me tell you the tale of how streaming “The Mandalorian” could apparently stop you from suing a mouse.

Recently, a man named Jeffrey Piccolo filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Disney. A tragic story: his wife, Dr. Kanokporn Tangsuan, died after suffering a severe allergic reaction at Raglan Road Irish Pub in Disney Springs October 2023. According to reports, she had clearly informed the staff about her food allergies. Despite this, she was served something she shouldn’t have been, and she collapsed and died shortly after.

Now, you might think this is when Disney steps up, offers condolences, and cooperates with the investigation like any reasonable entity would. But no. Disney reached into its bag of legal tricks, pulled out a shiny, glittery scroll, and shouted, “Aha! You clicked ‘Agree’ to our streaming service Terms & Conditions. Checkmate!”

Disney+ terms prevent allergy death lawsuit, Disney says

Disney's legal team argued that because Piccolo had previously signed up for a free trial of Disney+ FOUR YEARS PREVIOUS (2019), he had agreed to an arbitration clause tucked into the 74-page novella of Terms & Conditions that none of us ever read (unless you’re a robot or a lawyer, or a robot lawyer). According to Disney, this meant he waived his right to sue any part of the Disney empire. Including the theme parks, the restaurants, and presumably even a haunted animatronic if it malfunctions and turns on you.

This is like saying, “Hey, I know your leg got crushed on Dumbo's Wild Ride, but you did use that Lion King meme on Facebook a few years back, so…”

 

Thankfully, the public response to this legal jujitsu was swift and appropriately horrified. After being dragged harder than a villain in a Pixar sequel, Disney eventually backed off and dropped their attempt to enforce the Disney+ clause. The lawsuit will proceed in court where, you know, actual justice happens. Ideally. Of course, Disney has a Space Mountain full of lawyers, so there is no way this guy will ever see any compensation, but the streaming agreement clause thing was thrown out so...WIN?

Now, let’s take a long, hard look into our magic mirrors (the judgmental kind, not the one that just tells you you’re pretty) and ask what this story really reflects. We all joke about how Terms & Conditions are unreadable. We scroll, we click, and we move on with our lives because, really (like Cinderella), who has the time? But when a streaming contract tries to sneakily ban you from holding a megacorporation accountable for something that happened in a completely unrelated part of the business. That’s not quirky or clever. That’s creepy. That’s dystopian. That's evil stepmother treachery. That’s… very on-brand for 2025, actually.

In the end, this story has everything: tragedy, bureaucracy, streaming subscriptions, and a lesson we should probably tattoo on our collective consciousness:

Never trust a giant corporation to have your best interests at heart. They will sell you a churro, kill you with it, and then argue you consented to it because you tapped your toes to “We Don't Talk About Bruno” while watching Encanto.

So next time you click “Agree,” remember: you might just be signing away your right to sue if Donald Duck ever breaks your kneecaps.

J - Juxtaposition - #AtoZChallenge

I searched all over the internet for the name of a literary genre that started with the letter J and I could not find one that made sense for a Western audience. So, I chose the word Juxtaposition. 

For this post, I will take the post I started this challenge with and tell it from the other person's perspective. The original post was A - Adventure. You can read that post to see the way I originally wrote it. It only had two characters. The original was written from Trina's perspective. This one will be the same story, but told from Terry's side.

---

"Why do I keep letting you talk me into this crap?" wailed Terry.

Terry's sister Trina seemed to be ignoring him as she wrapped his ankle. It figured. She dragged him all the way out here in the middle of nowhere and then got quiet when the inevitable happened.

"I didn't talk you into tripping over that branch. That happened because you were looking at your phone instead of where you were going. That's why I left mine in the car. No distractions. Just try to enjoy it out here."

Terry winced as he tried to stand up. "But I don't enjoy it out here. This is your thing, not mine."

He had been trying to tell her this all morning, but she chose not to listen. She'd been on this nature kick ever since she went off to college. He knew it had something to do with her major, but never expected it to turn her into a drag to be around.

Trina shot back, "I asked you this morning what you wanted to do together and you had nothing. So, I came up with something."

Terry swatted at the bugs around his face and tried to let her know that hurt, "That's not true. I asked you to play Halo with me. You weren't interested."

Trina sighed, "That's the opposite of doing something."

Terry wiped at the sweat on his neck. "All I know is that I never sprained an ankle running through the jungle with Lara Croft. A couple of hours with you and I'm a cripple."

Terry knew he was laying it on thick, but she rarely listened to him anymore. They used to have so much fun together. They shared a love of movies, great food, and raunchy stand-up comics their parents didn't like them to watch. They had stayed up all night playing Guitar Hero and other games hundreds of times…until she went off to school. Now all she wanted to do was go camping and fishing and hiking and other stupid things.

Terry had actually been excited the first weekend she came home from school. He had missed his Mario Kart buddy. He had rented the newest Final Fantasy  for her weekend visit, but all she could talk about was her new friends and the classes she was taking. Every visit had been the same since. It was like she was a different person.

Trina didn't seem to be treating Terry's injury very seriously. "It's just a sprained ankle. Let's make our way back to the car."

Terry pushed away from the tree and collapsed as soon as he put weight on his injured foot. He tried to make a joke, "I don't think I can walk. Call an Uber."

Trina just laughed at him as the pain shot through his leg all the way up to his knee. He couldn't believe she was getting pleasure out of this. He reluctantly accepted her help getting to his feet. He didn't really have much of a choice. Plus, they were so far from the car, getting back was going to take a while. Especially at this new, slow pace.

As Terry slowly moved each foot, even with Trina's help, she kept pestering him with questions. It took a few before she landed on something he actually had an opinion about. "Have you gotten any new games since my last visit?"

He mumbled out a short answer, but she prodded further. Soon Terry was excitedly telling her the plot points of Hitman 3 and recalling his latest adventures in Red Dead Redemption II now that he had the latest expansion pack. Trina was even asking a few good questions. After a few minutes, he was in a better mood and, despite the pain, sometimes forgot about his injury. He was just talking games with his sister like they used to.

With about half a mile left to go, they came to the log that had fallen across a dried creek bed. The creek was only about five feet deep, but had very steep sides. The bridge provided by the fallen tree was perfect. On the way in, they just walked across the log, but with Terry's injured ankle it was proving to be much more difficult this time. Trina and Terry couldn't cross hanging onto each other. He knew he was going to have to do it alone.

He still couldn't walk well, so they tried a couple of different ways. "Get in front of me and give me your hand," Terry said.

Trina did as instructed and it seemed to work. She had to walk backward and go very slow, but that little bit of support was all Terry needed to start working his way across. Terry was a little shaky without her supporting him, but if he took small steps he could slowly manage.

About halfway across, Terry heard a sudden crack and loud grunting-type noise. Terry was startled and almost went down as he saw an awakened deer scrambling away from under the tree. He heard a shriek from Trina and lost sight of her as she fell off the log and into the creek.

 Terry laid himself down on the log to peer down into the brush. "Trina are you alright?"

He could hear the pain in her voice. "I don't know yet. I've hurt my knee. Give me a minute."

"What do you want me to do?"

He couldn't see her face, but he could see her hand as she waved him to keep moving to the other end of the tree. Terry edged his way to the other side of the creek and eased himself down on the edge of the creek. He could see her now. He extended his hand as he laid on his stomach.

"Come on. I got you." 

Trina tried to stand, but she was not moving well. When she hit the ground again, she pulled herself to the edge of the creek where Terry's hand was. He saw that she was dragging her leg behind her trying not to move it. As mad as he was at his sister, he felt bad for her. She looked like she was in worse pain than he was. That made two cripples in the woods.

She drug herself to the bank of the creek where Terry was and could not reach his outstretched hand and she was in too much pain to get higher. He tried to stretch further, but she told him to stop.

"Even if I could reach you, I would just pull you in. There's no way you can lift me."

Terry was a little insulted, but knew she was right. "I bet you wish we were playing XBOX right now."

He could hear her choking back a sob as she yelled, "Shut up. You're not helping."

He smiled a little at that one. "Sorry. What do we do?"

Through broken breaths, Trina explained, "I know I gave you a hard time for bringing your phone, but now would be a good time to use it. I can't get out of this creek and you can barely walk. Call Dad and let him know where we are. Him and Daryl will need to come rescue us."

"Um, Trina. My phone died about 20 minutes ago."

Terry didn't like their situation, but enjoyed hearing the little laugh that escaped from Trina. "We have ourselves in a fix don't we? Terry, suck it up and limp yourself back to the car? My phone will be fully charged. Got it?"

"Yeah, but…I have no idea where I am. I've been following you the whole time. How do I find the car? I don't even know what direction to go."

Terry knew Trina had been excited to show this place to him, but even she had only been here once. And her preference for getting off the trail meant he had nothing to guide him back. "So tell me what to do, Mountain Man Trina."

"Crap! That's right. OK, listen, you still move better than I do. Find a section of creek that is not as steep or deep. At a shorter bank or less steep incline, maybe I can crawl out."

"OK. I'll try."

Terry heard Trina starting to cry as he limped along the side of the creek. He knew she had waited until he got far enough away to not hear here, but she hadn't waited long enough. She had always liked to be seen as the strong, responsible older sister. He thought she was full of it, but wouldn't call her out on this one.

Terry had only moved about 50 feet along the side of the creek when it started to rain. Terry shouted, "SERIOUSLY? I hate it out here."

He worked his way back to Trina and leaned over the edge. "When this is all over, I hope you know I'm never going outside again." 

Trina gave him a thumbs up and waved him away.

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is J for Juxtaposition.

A - Adventure - #AtoZChallenge

"Why do I keep letting you talk me into this crap?" wailed Terry.

Trina ignored her brother's complaining as she wrapped his ankle. She always carried a first aid kit if her klutzy sibling was going anywhere with her. He complained a lot, but these occasional excursions were the only time they got to spend together since she went off to college. 

"I didn't talk you into tripping over that branch. That happened because you were looking at your phone instead of where you were going. That's why I left mine in the car. No distractions. Just try to enjoy it out here."

Terry winced as he tried to stand up. "But I don't enjoy it out here. This is your thing, not mine."

Trina knew that Terry was right. This was her thing. She loved the outdoors and being in the forest. That's why she was studying to be a conservation officer. On her extended weekends when she got to come home, she wanted to share her life and new knowledge with her brother.

"I asked you this morning what you wanted to do together and you had nothing. So, I came up with something."

Terry swatted at the bugs around his face and shot back, "That's not true. I asked you to play Halo with me. You weren't interested."

Trina sighed, "That's the opposite of doing something."

Terry wiped at the sweat on his neck. "All I know is that I never sprained an ankle running through the jungle with Lara Croft. A couple of hours with you and I'm a cripple."

Trina had tried many times to force her brother to love the outdoors like she did, but it never worked. She had been slowly coming to the realization that it was never going to happen. Maybe she needed to be the one to be a bit flexible if she was going to maintain her relationship with her brother. "I'm sorry. Surely, we can find some common ground. Let's make our way back to the car."

Terry pushed away from the tree and collapsed as soon as he put weight on his injured foot. He pouted, "I don't think I can walk. Call an Uber."

Trina chuckled at her brother as she positioned herself under his arm to get him to his feet and help him limp back to the car. It was going to take a while. They had been hiking for over an hour before Terry hurt himself. Plus, Terry wasn't known for making things easier.

As Terry slowly moved each foot, even with Trina's help, she thought she might be able to distract him. "Have you gotten any new games since my last visit?"

It took a little prodding to get him talking, but soon he was excitedly telling her the plot points of Hitman 3 and recalling his latest adventures in Red Dead Redemption II now that he had the latest expansion pack. It seemed to be working. He still had a considerable limp, but discussing things he was excited about seemed to take his mind off his injury and they were moving much faster.

With about half a mile left to go, they came to the log that had fallen across a dried creek bed. The creek was only about five feet deep, but had very steep sides. The bridge provided by the fallen tree was perfect. On the way in, they just walked across the log, but with Terry's injured ankle it was proving to be much more difficult this time. It wasn't big enough for Trina to continue supporting Terry to get him across. He had to do it on his own slowly with very little pressure on the painful ankle. She walked backwards in front of him holding his hand to lead him along and provide a little support for balance, but she could not alleviate his weight.

About halfway across, a sudden crack and loud grunting-type noise startled Trina and she lost her balance as an awakened deer scrambled away from under the tree. She hit the bottom of the creek bed hard and wrenched her knee. Somehow, Terry did not fall. Shaken, he yelled down to her, "Trina are you alright?"

Through gritted teeth and holding back tears, she waved him to continue toward the end of the log. "I don't know yet. I've hurt my knee. Give me a minute."

Terry edged his way to the other side of the creek and eased himself down on the edge of the creek to extend a hand. "Come on. I got you." 

Trina tried to stand, but every movement shot pain through her knee. She looked up at Terry and tried not to cry. The pain was so bad. She knew she would be okay eventually. It was not a major injury, but it stopped her movement for the moment and they were stuck out in the woods.

She drug herself to the bank of the creek where Terry was and could not reach his outstretched hand. Trying to get into a better position to raise herself was excruciating. Plus, Trina was positive that even if she could grab his hand, he would probably get pulled in rather than her get pulled up and out.

Half-laughing and half-crying, she called up to Terry. "Sorry about giving you a hard time for bringing your phone. Now would be a good time to use it. I can't get out of this creek and you can barely walk. Call Dad and let him know where we are. Him and Daryl will need to come rescue us."

"Um, Trina. My phone died about 20 minutes ago."

Despite this being another setback, Trina let out a low laugh. "We have ourselves in a fix don't we? Terry, you're going to need to suck it up and limp yourself back to the car? My phone will be fully charged. Got it?"

"Yeah, but…I've never been here before. I have no idea where I am. I've been following you the whole time."

Trina remembered. She had discovered this place on her last trip home and wanted to share it with him. "That's right. How about this? You still move better than I do. Can you find a section of creek that is not as steep or deep? The creek here is almost as deep as I am tall. You find a shorter section and we'll see what we can do."

"OK. I'll try."

Trina heard him shuffling through the fallen leaves and allowed herself to cry. She had been trying to keep the tears away when he was close enough to see her. She always liked to be seen as the strong, responsible older sister.

Then, it started to rain. Trina heard Terry's distant shout of frustration, "SERIOUSLY? I hate it out here."

Despite the pain and circumstances, she couldn't help but laugh. "I think we've had enough adventure for today."

---

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is A for Adventure.

Crooked Swollen Knuckle Sandwich

I've been in a lot of pain lately. It's been going on for a couple of years, but the worst of it has been in the last few months. I started a rather physical job in October and my joints have been killing me ever since. Some days I can't lift one of my arms above my shoulder. Other days, one of my hands will swell and I can't hold on to anything causing me to drop everything I touch at work. I've had some days when I've had to call in sick because I can't walk. Luckily, the job offers plenty of personal leave days.

Until this month, I had maintained my manhood and avoided any doctor. I would just pop some pain pills and try to power through it, but I was missing so many days of work, I was beginning to worry if I could realistically even keep my job. One day, while accompanying my wife to an appointment because I wanted to hear what her doctor said about a test result that had us a little concerned, he talked me into coming to see him the following week. So much for being a man.

At that appointment I told him about my concerns and he ordered a bunch of blood work and wanted me to keep a food diary until I returned to see him two weeks later.

Doctor-requested food diaries suck. Do you know how long it takes to eat a Family Size bag of M&M's when you have to weigh each one?

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 14, 2016

When I returned for that appointment, he walked into the room looking at my food diary and asked, "Is this real?"

I replied, "Well, yeah. I tried to be completely honest and not deviate just because I was recording everything for you."

He shook his head and said, "You eat like a homeless teenager digging leftovers out of White Castle and Applebee's dumpsters. I don't know how your body is functioning. I mean, according to this, for six days in a row your breakfast was Mt Dew!"

"Yeah. It takes too long to make coffee."

With raised eyebrows, he said, "Two days ago for supper you had a rack of ribs on bread"

 "I took the bones out."

He pointed at the paper, "There are no vegetables on here. For two whole weeks! Not a single vegetable"

I retorted, "Not true. I had vegetables last night. Spinach, sweet potatoes and tomatoes."

He glanced back at the paper and shook his head, "Veggie Straws are NOT vegetables." He then pulled out his own paper and sympathetically said, "Okay, let's try this. You really need to eat more fruits and vegetables, so let's make a list of which ones you like. What vegetables do you like?"

I got excited, "I know this one. Macaroni and cheese!"

He looked at my wife and pleaded, "Can you make sure there's fruits and vegetables in the house and that he eats them?" She agreed.

He said, "Good. Let's move on to your test results."

For the next half hour we went over what was found in my x-rays and my blood work and there was plenty found, but the best part had to do with the results of a particular test. When he pulled this up on his computer, his eyes got wide and he said to his assistant, "Have you ever seen that number that high?" His assistant, whose eyes were even wider just shook his head.

I pretty sure >300 is more than 3

You only need to score over a three to test positive for rheumatoid arthritis and I scored over three hundred. In fact, we don't even know what my actual score is because the charts only go to three hundred. I can actually say that my numbers were literally 'off the charts'.

After taking a few minutes to look at the results of several other tests, which all confirmed the same thing, he turned to me and gently said, "I hate to tell you this, but you have rheumatoid arthritis."

I smiled and said, "Okay."

He seemed a little taken back that I was taking it so well, but I pretty much already knew this. It had never been confirmed by a doctor before that day, but I knew. So, his grave declaration didn't get the response he was expecting.

Because my numbers were so high and he was able to locate several nodules in my hands and did see some degenerative damage in the X-rays of my feet, he put me on some pretty powerful drugs immediately to try to get it under control before we start the actual treatment. I don't know what that treatment will be yet, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. If it works, I won't have to cross it in a wheelchair.

I have another appointment in two weeks. For that one, we will go over my food diary again to see if I took his advice and I will be asking what the implications are of having that incredibly high number that seemed to startle him so much. Cross your fingers. I would do it myself, but they just don't move that way any more.

My test results came back and, as I suspected, I have arthritis. If it gets too bad, I'll just start tweeting with my nose.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 6, 2016

A is for Action

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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I feel like I've led a pretty full life. I really don't have any complaints. There are still many things that I would like to do (see Mila Kunis naked, in person) before my time here is over, but it's been a great ride so far. Some of my greatest memories involve how hungry my brothers and I were for excitement in our younger years. It seems that every time we left our house, we were in for an adventure and the possibility of stitches or an emergency room were no deterrent.

I have written in past posts about how we all wanted to be stuntmen when we grew up. Despite none of us actually pursuing that career in our adult lives, we believed it wholeheartedly well into our teenage years and practiced rigorously. We jumped out of moving vehicles to dive into snow banks. We intentionally rolled vehicles. We practiced getting hit by cars. We lit ourselves on fire. We jumped from vehicle to vehicle on the highway. We threw ourselves off roofs, barns, and anything else we could find. We were the ones who climbed the water tower, jumped on passing trains, crashed trucks through barn walls, and tried out the bike ramps that others thought looked too scary. We saw our share of emergency rooms, but the adrenaline rush was well worth it.

I do what I do because it is what I do and not what you do. That's all you need to know.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) March 18, 2016

Today, I still have that yearning for adventure, but it is much tamer. Seeing some action now usually involves what happens in my bedroom after dark. Sometimes, before it's dark…and it's not always in the bedroom.

Action for me now also involves seeing new places and having new experiences. I would like to walk on the Great Wall of China someday, but doubt I'll have a yearning to jump off it or ramp a motorcycle over it. All those trips to the emergency room have wreaked havoc on my body and I've been known to take my time just stepping off a sidewalk curb. I don't want to jar my back or twist an ankle.

My wife and I have found a new to have some adventure in a way that is significantly low-impact. It involves a little daring and sometimes quick reflexes, but there is little  concern for injury. All we need is ourselves, a camera and the right location.

Dead Horse Point State Park
Utah - October 2014

I know this isn't for everyone, but we have a great time doing it. We find a beautiful place. Locate a secluded spot and then get naked to snap a few pictures. This has become our new favorite vacation activity and it provides the adrenaline rush I have missed from my younger years without putting myself in grave danger.

Only three of these pictures have ever been seen by others and never really show anything.  It's just fun to be known as the crazy couple and our growing collection of canvas prints is getting rather impressive.

Never show up at a party already naked. It should happen organically.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) March 29, 2016

Before I Was Free

I had hoped to have another post up this week, but it didn't happen. I have been writing posts for the A to Z Blogging Challenge and posting for this week got away from me. I promise this will be the last time I will use that challenge as an excuse. The challenge starts on Monday and I hope you will drop in every day to see what I come up with.

In the meantime, here is the post from one year ago today about me trying to escape from my family as a toddler. Tomorrow, I will post the results from this week's caption contest with Hitler.

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I like to think that I have always been my own person. I have my way of thinking, my way of acting and my way of doing things (even if they don't always work). While I can respect the wisdom and knowledge of people that came before me, I like finding my own way. This started at a very young age.

Never a slave to conventional dress,
I found my style early on.

Much to my parents dismay, the pastel colors and little duckies on my clothes just were not acceptable to me. After much deliberation (mostly on their part since I couldn't talk yet), I compromised.

I was gangsta,
before gangsta was cool.

At the age of 18 months, I began to change my own diapers. This was not a modesty issue. We know from past posts, I still don't have any modesty. No, this was part of my unrelenting desire to become my own man.

I demanded this freedom in other areas of my life as well. I knew how I wanted things and would accept nothing less.

Had Mother fixed the steak I asked for,
this would not have happened.

My parents, being appreciative of the freedom I was offering them by my new independence, took advantage of the situation. Since I could take care of myself, they could go out and not have to worry about me. It saved money in babysitters and further taught me self reliance.

Against my wishes, they later decided this was not a good idea.

I invited the neighbor girls over,
but their mom said they were napping.

The cop took this picture after pulling me over.
I was on my way to buy more booze.

After the run in with local law enforcement, my parents had me under their oppressive thumbs and my life was relegated to the boring life of a toddler once again. I endured this for a little over a year before I saw my opportunity to escape.

One Sunday, my family was walking in the pasture behind my great-grandfather's house. It was a beautiful day and the birds were singing. All that open air made me yearn for the freedom that I knew I deserved. After all, it had been over three years since I had escaped from the suffocation of the womb. How long should I be expected to play the part of cute pet? I knew today was the day and began looking for my opportunity.

As we approached the top of a hill, I observed a wide open space before us. This was the place to make a break for it. If I could make it to the tree line, I could disappear and live off the land.

Being acutely aware of my short stature (darn stubby toddler legs), I knew I would need a head start in order to not be caught. The large descent before me would give me the opportunity to gain speed quickly. If the parental units could be distracted for a few moments, I would have the edge I needed.

I pointed at a cloud and babbled in that way that adults think are so cute. When they looked up, I bolted for the bottom of the hill. I was able to get close to the bottom before they realized I was gone. Only a few hundred feet more and I would be free forever.

I looked back and noticed that they had taken pursuit and were screaming for me to stop. They must have been aware of my intentions because they were much more frantic than usual. My father was closing in fast, so I concentrated on my departure.

Upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I tripped and sprawled forward. My tumble caused a white hot dust to come out of the ground. I quickly found it difficult to see and began to cough. I then realized that I had been duped.

My great-grandfather had anticipated my plan the night before and laid out a trap. He had burned a large brush pile after clearing out some trees. Knowing this was where I would most likely make a run for it, he placed it in the valley before the trees.

The entire pile had been burned to the ground and the only evidence of the preceding days events was the white ash on the ground. In my haste to get away, I had not noticed what I was running toward. The fire was out, but the coals were still crackling hot. My hands were now holding up the rest of my body from being burned, but my center of gravity did not allow for me to stand up and remove my hands from the burning.

Was this going to be the end? Would I slowly disintegrate into the pile eventually engulfing my entire body? I had underestimated the deviousness of my guardians.

My father snatched me out of the fire. I knew they were disappointed that the trap had not worked properly. He was going to throw me in and finish the job properly. I held my breath and waited for the heat, but it never came.

My father ran back to the house as the heat in my hands began to grow to intolerable levels. After a quick clean up, they rushed me to a hospital. The doctor's did horrible things and then bound me so I could no longer cause any trouble. My parents' plan to end my independence was complete.

I could no longer change my diapers.

Without the use of my hands, I had to humbly allow my mother to feed me and take care of my bathroom issues once again. I couldn't even use my toys. My life was going to be dependent on them forever.

My dog didn't even respect me any more.

Two days later, I was returned to the hospital and thrilled to learn that they were removing the hindrances that had been placed on me. However, my hands and fingers had doubled in size and were covered in blisters that stood over an inch tall. My hands still didn't work. Then they held me down and bound me up again.

They teased me this way every few days. The doctors would take them off and then replace them. I finally understood. They were trying to break my spirit.

After a few weeks, I falsely admitted compliance. Satisfied that I would not attempt escape again, they freed my hands. It was several years before I tried again.

It didn't go well either.

Fortune Cookie #6 - Confidence Isn't Enough

I recently got to visit my favorite local restaurant again, China Buffet #6. As usual, I was very happy with the experience right up to the very last bite. At the end, they brought me my bill and accompanying fortune cookie. Here was my fortune:

They can because they think they can.

When I do these fortune cookie posts, I often feign ignorance at what they mean to try to pull a post out of it, but for this one I want to make it clear that I completely understand the meaning. I just vehemently disagree.

I have heard the following phrase hundreds of times and know it has been used by sales seminars, self-help books and new age gurus:

"Whether you think you can or cannot, you are right."

Stewie Griffin even said it once to Brian in an episode of Family Guy. The idea behind it is fairly simple. Often the biggest deterrent to your success is your own self doubt. I can't disagree with that. There are a lot of people who do not succeed because they never step forward to do what is necessary to succeed due to the fact that they do not believe in themselves. However, that is not what this fortune cookie said.

While it is similar, it is not the same.

I am sorry to inform all you bright eyed youngsters who believed your mother when she said, "You can do anything you set your mind to." It's not true. Your mother lied to you. It takes a whole lot more than just determination, belief, and a healthy self-esteem to accomplish most significant tasks.

Several years ago, my brother Trevor had just left the bar with a girl and was driving home when they came upon a bull in the middle of the road. Despite the fact that the ditches were shallow and he was driving a large jacked-up, four-wheel drive truck, he decided to get out and move the bull by hand rather than drive around it or nudge it with the bumper. Trevor fully believed that he could impress this girl move this bull, but his belief did not prevent his horn-shaped puncture wounds, loss of hair and skin, and days of soreness that he experienced later.

When I was a teenager standing in the bed of my buddy's truck, I firmly believed that I would be able to jump into the bed of another friend's truck as he sped by. The idea that it might not work never even crossed my mind. A few minutes later, when my friends dragged my bloody body into the nearest bar to seek medical assistance (yes, we went to a bar), I fully believed that my shock-induced pick up lines were good enough to break through the sight of my injuries to the cute bartender who was tending to my wounds. As she was applying antiseptic and asked where else I was hurt, I started to undo my belt. She just left me bleeding in the back room.

My brother Kyle was about 8 years old when he believed he could do a flip out of the barn loft at our grandfather's house. He believed it because I thought it would be cool to see and convinced him he could do it. I did such a good job of pumping up his confidence, that soon I even believed he could do it…right up to the moment he leapt out and belly flopped onto the grass twelve feet below. Then, I believed Dad would make me pay for my idea. That belief was correct.

In each of these instances, not only was believing in success not enough to make it happen, but it was the firm belief that something could be done that got us into trouble to begin with. There is usually a reason for caution. Not everything can be done just because you are confident and believe in yourself.

Some people's belief in themselves is so deeply rooted that they can't see the truth even after it has been shown to them. In this video, the contestant truly believed he had what it took.

I have worked with youth for close to two decades and have met literally hundreds of teens who were convinced they were going to be professional athletes. There was no doubt in their minds. They didn't just want to do this, they believed it with their entire being. However, they were lacking a key feature needed in order to succeed: the necessary talent.

NOPE! They can because they are good enough.

Believing that you will go to college will not get you there. It takes work. Believing your business will be a success will not make it happen. It requires a good business plan, hard work, long hours, wise decisions and a host of other factors. Believing you are going to win American Idol because your grandma convinced you that you are better than any of those "screeching idiots on the radio" will not impress Simon or even the nicer judges.

I am not suggesting that people should not pursue their dreams and I will agree that success usually starts with someone believing that something can be done, but that belief is only the very beginning and is definitely not the factor that makes it happen. There is so much more involved. We've all met that incredible cocky person who believes they are the greatest in the world at something (or in some cases, everything). Yet, despite that person's incredible belief, they never accomplish anything worthy. Belief is overrated. Success is achieved by hard work and persistence. Sometimes, even then, it sometimes still doesn't come. I leave you with the wise words of the poet Shel Silverstein.

The Little Blue Engine

The little blue engine looked up at the hill.

His light was weak, his whistle was shrill.

He was tired and small, and the hill was tall,

And his face blushed red as he softly said,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

So he started up with a chug and a strain,

And he puffed and pulled with might and main.

And slowly he climbed, a foot at a time,

And his engine coughed as he whispered soft,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

With a squeak and a creak and a toot and a sigh,

With an extra hope and an extra try,

He would not stop — now he neared the top —

And strong and proud he cried out loud,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!”

He was almost there, when — CRASH! SMASH! BASH!

He slid down and mashed into engine hash

On the rocks below... which goes to show

If the track is tough and the hill is rough,

THINKING you can just ain’t enough!

Sibling Perceptions

Deep in thought

This post is a response to some of the questions I received on my November 27th post asking readers to submit questions. This series of questions came from my brother Kyle.

There are a few questions I like to ask everyone I run into, at some point.

1. Have you ever eaten a grasshopper?
2. Have you ever eaten anything, while it was still alive?
3. Do you have a fear of picnic tables? If so why?
4. When and what was your feelings, when you realized your younger siblings could take you down.
5. Have you ever been so considerate of your neighbors, that you asked them to leave for the weekend, because you didn't want your party to disturb them?
6. Have you ever gone to Six Flags while your brother sat in a hospital room awaiting surgery... on his birthday?
7. Has your hair ever resembled the tsunami wave that hit the cost of Japan?
8. Have you ever come home and found your household cabinets rearranged?
9. What is your favorite family memory from your childhood?

At first, I thought about skipping over these, but then decided that I better tackle them. Whether they were meant to be a joke or not, he would call me out on it. So here goes...


Have you ever eaten a grasshopper?

Yes, I have eaten several. I've had chocolate covered grasshoppers and grasshoppers coated with a nacho powder similar to the coating of a Doritos chip. However, I believe Kyle is referring to one specific instance that my mother loves to tell about.

When I was very young (I don't know the exact age), I was bugging my mother for some food. She was preparing me something, but I did not let up in asking. I must have been very hungry...OR a whiny, difficult child. I don't know which. Once she had fixed my plate, she found that I was already chewing on something. As she got closer, she saw the leg sticking out of my mouth. Apparently, she was not filling my belly fast enough and I had found a dead grasshopper in a windowsill.


Have you ever eaten anything, while it was still alive?

The answer to this question (like most of the others) is 'YES.' I have written before about the time I ate live octopus, but I didn't have to leave the country to eat live food.

I was in high school when I heard about goldfish swallowing and just had to try it. It really wasn't a big deal. Pop it in your mouth and wash it down with some water. I did use fresh tap water and not water from the fish tank. I have also eaten live earthworms a few times. They were pretty slimy, and I will still choose the worms over okra every time. The fish was better.


Do you have a fear of picnic tables? If so why?

I don't fear them, but I do keep a close eye on them. The worst accident I ever had involved a bicycle, a picnic table and a poorly constructed ramp. Due to the events of that day, I was knocked unconscious, missed weeks of school and still have back problems 30 years later. I will tell the entire story in a future post.


When and what was your feelings, when you realized your younger siblings could take you down?

You should ask him about
the time he tried to fly.

I expect that when that day comes, I probably won't be too happy about it.


Have you ever been so considerate of your neighbors, that you asked them to leave for the weekend, because you didn't want your party to disturb them?

Yes, again! Always mindful of my surroundings and never wanting to be a hassle to anyone, I try to be considerate.

About 15 years ago, I lived way out in the country and had a small^* gathering planned.

*For this 'small' gathering I had rented port-o-potties and had a stage constructed in my backyard for the evening's entertainment.

As the stage was being built and the bands started to arrive, it occurred to me that I did have one neighbor. It was my brother Kyle and his wife. They lived close enough that we shared a yard.  Never one to be rude, I informed them (with a proper 4 hours notice) that there may be some revelry lasting past nine o' clock. They were welcome to attend, but might be more comfortable spending the night some place else. They chose to leave for the night.

Which was a shame, because they missed a great party.


Have you ever gone to Six Flags while your brother sat in a hospital room awaiting surgery... on his birthday?

I almost wonder if some of these questions were designed to make me look bad. Nah! I'm sure it's just me.

The answer to this one is 'YES!'

I did do this, but made great sacrifices to make it happen. Our church youth group was going to Six Flags for a summer trip. We had purchased tickets weeks in advance.

Six months
of lugging him around

Kyle, without thinking, has a massive bicycle accident during his birthday party days before this trip. He is hospitalized and enjoying some great drugs while I am left holding his ticket for Six Flags. While Kyle was getting to enjoy the wonderful psychedelic world of medical grade hallucinogens, I have to find another person to use his  non-refundable ticket. I had to make two phone calls before I found someone to use it. It was awful.

In all honesty, I don't even remember the events of that day, but Kyle has six titanium rods in his knee as souvenirs to help him remember. I have nothing.


Has your hair ever resembled the tsunami wave that hit the cost of Japan?

Hey, I looked good.
Although, I get the feeling this is not
the picture Kyle had in mind.

Have you ever come home and found your household cabinets rearranged?

I have written about how some of my pranks involved breaking into someone's house. Growing up in the same house as Kyle, he tends to think the same way on some things and this is one of them. He and a friend broke into my house once and rearranged the contents of all my kitchen cabinets.

I had no idea anyone had been in my house until it was time for dinner. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. I ended up just leaving it that way.


What is your favorite family memory from your childhood?

I honestly don't think I could pick one. I am not someone who can complain about my childhood. It was great. I have tons of memories of running around in the woods with my brothers, exploring the countryside on our bikes, hanging out with friends, coming up with and trying out new stunts and lots of other things. My parents provided a wonderful house to grow up in.

Call Me Maybe

I haven't written about it on here, but for the last two months, I've been broke. I mean broke, broke. As in I don't have two pennies to rub together broke. That's actually an exaggeration. I do have two pennies and a dime, but what can you do with twelve cents and what would rubbing them together do for me? I have had to call all my accounts (cell phone, internet, power, etc.) to make payment arrangements or deferments just to keep my services on.

Due to not having any money, Kirsten and I have not been out to eat since early August. It's much cheaper to eat at home, but Kirsten is convinced that a prolonged diet of frozen pizza and burritos is somehow unhealthy. I retorted with the fact that not drinking the sugary sodas for six weeks should outweigh her concerns. She still doesn't agree.

I pulled out my wallet to show her how empty it was. When I held it upside down to prove my point, a slip of paper drifted out. Kirsten had already walked out of the room, so she didn't get to see this fortune cookie fortune:

An embarrassing situation? I wonder what it will be. Plus, I have to wonder if I am the best person to call in the event of something embarrassing happening. I like to think that I'm a decent guy. I try to be helpful when I can. I would even be helpful in an embarrassing situation, but would someone really want to call me. I spend a considerable amount of time making fun of people and will laugh at an embarrassed person faster than Oprah can grab the last doughnut. If you are caught in an embarrassing situation, I will probably remind you about it for the rest of your life or until you cut me out of your circle of friends. Whichever comes first.

When my buddy Adam was bleeding out of his groin or was inflicted with a male yeast infection, I wasn't exactly sensitive to how embarrassing this might be for him. In fact, the whole experience ended up in my blog (be sure to click the links; they are well worth the read). However, I guess it could be said that I was helpful. Not sympathetic (or even nice), but helpful.

I can remember one time when I didn't take advantage of someone's embarrassing situation. I was about 20 years old and at a party out in the middle of nowhere. It was one of those country parties where a keg is consumed in the middle of a field by a few dozen people not old enough to drink in bars. As I am talking with a group of friends, I feel a tap on the shoulder. I turn around to find the younger sister of one of my friends.

Names are changed to prove that I can be discreet.
KELLY: I need you to come with me.
ME: Where we going?
KELLY: I can't tell you.
ME: Why not?
KELLY: Just follow me.

Always up for an adventure, I followed. We walked out into the field away from the party. I asked where we were going and she advised me to just keep walking. After a few minutes, we had gone far enough that we couldn't even see the party.

ME: Hey, where are we going?
KELLY: Remember that girl that came here with me tonight?
ME: I think. Mary, right?
KELLY: Marion. She needs your help.
ME: Help with what?
KELLY: She's stuck.

Kelly explained that they had wandered away from the party to empty their bladders. Being a party in a field, there were surprisingly few bathrooms. This is not an issue for guys or immodest girls, but most girls of the female persuasion tend to get away from the crowd before squatting on the ground. Marion and Kelly had gone for the overkill in making sure no one saw them by walking almost a quarter mile.

When they found a suitable place away from the eyes of anyone at the party, they dropped their pants to do what they came to do. Kelly said she was mid-stream when she heard Marion fall over and scream. Marion had lost her balance and fallen back into a briar patch. Kelly said she tried to help her out, but the vines were so thick, she couldn't get her out by herself.

About this time, I hear a timid voice call out, "Kelly, is that you?" She answers and we move toward the voice, but Marion yells out from the darkness, "STOP! Kelly, who did you bring?"

KELLY: I brought Brett.
MARION: What? You brought a guy? I wanted a girl.
KELLY: You said to get someone you didn't know.
MARION: I meant a girl I didn't know.
KELLY: You didn't say that.
ME: Why does it matter?
MARION: (crying) Because I don't have any pants on!
ME: OH!

I hadn't really thought about it, but it made sense. She had pulled down her pants before falling in and getting stuck.

Kelly offered to go back and get someone else, but she had been gone over 20 minutes to get me. Marion said she couldn't wait that long again. She reluctantly agreed to accept my help. As I start moving toward her voice she yells, "Don't look!"

Ever the gentleman (believe it or not), I kept my eyes to the ground as I approached. When I reached her, she made me promise to keep my eyes closed. I agreed and slowly leaned in to see feel what we working with. I had trouble even getting close to her because of the thickness of the briars. Every direction I turned caused them to stick in my arms, clothes and face. I quickly realized the 'closed eye thing' wasn't going to work.

I leaned in real close and opened my eyes to look right into her face and explained that if she actually wanted out of here, she would have to let me use my sight to both keep myself untangled and find where she was stuck. She hung her head, but agreed. I placed my jacket over her lap so she wouldn't feel as exposed.

Looking at the situation, I could see that she had really struggled to get out. Her pants were almost completely removed. Her shirt had caught as she fell and was pulled up around her shoulders. She had managed to pull the front down, but the back was behind her head.

I had Kelly hold some of the briars back while I tried to pull her shirt free of the thorns. She was deep enough into the bush that it was a hopeless task. It would immediately catch on others and it could not be slid down her back due to the thorns stuck in her. The same was true for the pants.

Both the girls thought that if Kelly pulled back some of the briars branches I might be able to just pull her out. I doubted it would work, but we gave it a try. Marion yelled after moving only a few inches. She was hooked by those briars all down her back, her legs, and part of her arms.

I started on her arms first. I slowly pulled the branches and when we discovered resistance, I would take care of that thorn before moving to the next one. I eventually freed both of her arms and had broken off the offending branches so they could not grab her again.

Once I got her legs free, I tried to lift her out again. The resulting pain was the same as before. She was still stuck all along her backside. Once again, I started on her legs, but this time I had to feel around to find where she was stuck. As I got past her knees, she blurted out, "Watch your hands!"

"SERIOUSLY! I understand your yearning for modesty, but I don't see any other solution here. Do you want the thorns out of your flesh or not?"

She lowered her eyes and said, "Get it over with."

She quietly endured the displeasure of a stranger running his hands over her skin. Once we freed her legs, she was able to lift herself enough for me to pull the thorns out of her butt. Of course, due to the restricted space we were in, I had to feel around to find them. This is not a joke. It's what I had to do.

They were huge and some of them broke off.

She had been sitting on them for almost an hour at this point and they were dug in pretty deep. Plus, like the other thorns, they couldn't just be pulled out. They were dug in at a variety of angles and had to be pulled out in the right direction. So, after thirty minutes of me running my hands all over her body (including unmentionable places; the thorns did not discriminate), she was finally free.

After clearing the loose thorns out of her clothes, she was dressed again. Handing me my jacket, she looked at me and opened her mouth to say something. She then stopped, dropped her eyes and walked back to the party. I hung back for several minutes to allow the gap between us she so obviously wanted. Kelly later told me that Marion was very grateful for what I had done and said that I did well to try and make her feel comfortable, but she was too embarrassed to talk to me.

Twenty years later, I still occasionally run into her and she always reacts the same way when she sees me. She drops her eyes to the ground and slowly walks away.

So, while I may not be the guy to call in an embarrassing situation today, I used to be the guy to call. I was gentle, discreet and respectful. The perfect response for dealing with someone in such a compromising position, but it's not nearly as fun.

With Friends Like These...

Image stolen from the Dude Write site.
I don't know where they stole it from.

The dudes over at Dude Write have a slasher theme happening this week (since it is the 13th week) and it immediately reminded me of this story. However, I feel that I have to offer a disclaimer and a warning with this post. First, the disclaimer: I was not present for the following events. It is a story that my brother Trevor has told many times. I have heard it so many times, I am sure I can piece it together. Next, the warning: This post might get a bit graphic and since I haven't searched for the images to use with it yet, I don't know how bloody it might get. After the post about playing chicken, reader Marianne requested a heads up before subjecting viewers to such violent images. Even though this post is being written to be linked to the tough guys at Dude Write, there will be women reading as well, so I want to be polite. Be forewarned.

---

Guys have certain rituals that may not be understood by the fairer species. Everyone has seen a guy punch a friend, casual acquaintance or even a stranger in the arm. The female equivalent would be to hug or jump up and down while screaming. This is just part of the bonding process that allows men to show affection towards each other without losing any appearance of masculinity.

In some contexts, this practice evolves into other forms. Back in the days when I frequented bars, it was not uncommon for a male to talk to another male while discreetly holding the flame of a lighter to the butt of the man he was talking to. Within a few seconds, the heat would raise the temperature of the denim to a degree that caused the victim to jump. Then, rubbing his seared rear, he would laugh with his friends as he joked that he had been gotten.

Not all men use the lighter to the butt prank, but they are practitioners of some similar practice that is common among their group of friends. This story is about one of these practices that had evolved into something ridiculously stupid a bit less subtle.

Several years ago, the bar that my brother hung out in was filled with men who had developed the practice of poking each other in the back of the knees. The purpose was quite simple. It was supposed to startle the victim and make him jump so everyone could laugh at him. Ladies, please don't judge. Most men are pretty easily entertained. Drunk men even more so.

The practice was fairly simple. Approach a man standing and talking with other men. Place object to poke him with directly behind one of his knees and then wait for him to step back. When he hits the object, the unexpected sensation causes him to jump and laughter ensues.

It didn't take long for the practitioners of this prank to discover that not just any object would deliver the intended result. For instance, a finger would simply cause the victim to turn around and ask, "What are you doing?" It might even get you punched. Using a pool cue wouldn't get you much more than a smirk. However, something sharp generally got the desired effect. A well-secured toothpick could supply hours of entertainment.

Eventually, someone ingeniously used his pocketknife to get the same result. Since most of these guys always had one on them, it quickly became the tool of choice for this favorite prank. That was how the practice of mixing alcohol and sharp objects came to be commonplace at this particular tavern.

One evening, John whips out his knife to steady it behind the knee of Brad to start the festivities. As he approaches the intended area, Brad jumps back in the midst of the story he is telling. The unexpected action causes the freshly sharpened blade to sink over two inches into Brad's flesh immediately severing an artery.

The blood is spraying out of the new wound and the people standing around are stunned silent as Brad is trying to figure out what just happened. John snaps out of his stupor and grabs some napkins. He and Trevor begin trying to stop the bleeding.

The two of them usher Brad into the bathroom to patch him up because everyone knows that the restroom is the most sterile place in a bar. Actually, they needed some privacy since they needed to remove Brad's pants to better access the wound.

Once in the privacy of the restroom and Brad's pants were removed, there was nothing to stop the trajectory of the still-spraying blood. Trevor and John had blood on their faces, shirts and all over their arms and hands. It was flowing freely down Brad's legs and they quickly realized they would not be able to fix this.

When you stab your friends, you should be better prepared.

As Brad is attempting to replace his pants, John and Trevor are using entire rolls of paper towels to clean the excess blood off the floor. The mess is everywhere and there are dozens of blood-soaked rags littering the floor. John slips in the blood, knocking Trevor and Brad both to the floor covering them in even more sticky mess.

They hear a scream and look up to discover a horrified man clawing to get back out of the bathroom. He had walked in to find what appeared to be three blood covered men (one with his pants around his ankles) fighting on the floor of the bathroom. He thought he was witnessing a murder.

As they help Brad out of the bathroom, John admits that Brad really needs to get to the hospital and tells Trevor to take him. Trevor exclaims, "I'm not taking him to the hospital. YOU stabbed him! You take him."

John was really concerned about getting in legal trouble for stabbing his friend in a bar, so they concocted a story about Brad cutting himself on some sheet metal. Due to loss of blood, Brad was losing consciousness, so they threw water in his face so he could wake up long enough to learn the story. Trevor still insisted that John take Brad himself, but did allow John to use his truck since it was older.

John drove off with his pale friend and Trevor returned to the bar for a much-needed drink. However, the bartender handed him a garden hose and sponge while silently pointing toward the bathroom.

When The Cat's Away

For the last year, I have spent a substantial amount of time outside of my house. I seems that I have become very busy. A variety of things call me to leave the comfort of my castle. I have a wide array of ways I make money, and most require me to go somewhere else. I am involved with church activities. I leave to go counsel people. I spend as much time as possible with Red. I assume most people have life events that keep them busy as well, but it seems that I am spending more and more time away from the house.

I am not complaining about my schedule and would not even give this a second thought if it weren't for the fact that I have a teenage daughter. Kirsten has a rich social life and is out of the house doing exciting things almost daily, despite her belief (common to many teenagers) that she has no life or friends. However, even with her busy schedule, she does occasionally find herself at home. Since I am always running as well, she sometimes finds herself at home when I am not there.

Myself, Kyle & Trevor

Kirsten is sixteen, so she is old enough that she does not need me there to tend to her every need. However, I remember being a teenager and having the house to myself. Although, in my situation, it wasn't just me. I had two brothers who were just as willing as me to slightly bend the rules when our parents weren't around.

We lived in a big two-story farmhouse and the second floor was all ours. It had our bedrooms and an extra room which we used for our TV, video games and whatever else we wanted to do. A steadfast rule, usually enforced by our mother, was the prohibition of girls from ever going upstairs.

As a parent, I understand the reasoning behind this rule, but as a teenager, I thought it was unreasonable when my friends came over that we couldn't hang out in the game room upstairs if any of our guests were testicle deficient. This was one example of a rule that was not necessarily followed according to my parents' wishes when they were not in the house. We even allowed girls past the game room if they were willing  begged to see the other rooms. 

Sometime during my teenage years, we got our first satellite dish. It was one of those huge 12 foot monsters that made your house look like an outer space communication center. It had to be rotated to point at the specific satellite you wanted to pull a signal from. This was before the days of scrambled channels and subscription fees. If you owned a dish, you had access to every cable channel.

Obviously, there were channels we were not allowed to watch. I don't just mean HBO or late night Cinemax, but the more adult audience specific channels, like Playboy or Spice. These channels only came on late in the evening, but on the rare occasions that Mom and Dad had gone out and left us at home, you could be certain that the dish would be pointed to receive those channels for at least a portion of the night.

 In addition to these and many other violations of the rules, the worst infraction(s) happened one year when my parents left for vacation and left us at home. I don't remember why we didn't go with them. We always had in the past, but this one was just for them. As an adult, I now understand this decision as well.

As Mom and Dad went through the chores that were to be done each day (feed animals, wash dishes, etc.) and warned us to behave ourselves, we honestly didn't have any devious plans to disobey them. After one of the many times that my mother threatened reminded us, once again, that we had the house to ourselves and we were good boys who knew right from wrong, my father, in his infinite wisdom said, "Denise, once we leave, they're going to do whatever they're going to do." My father was much smarter than I gave him credit for at the time.

Within a few hours after they had left, we began to realize the freedom that had been handed to us. The first incident of that freedom happened when I had done something to my brother Kyle, causing him to chase me through the house. As I jumped into the next room, I closed the door behind me to slow his chase, but he came through the door anyway without taking the time to open it. The door was ripped off its hinges and our chase (for the moment) stopped. Luckily, Kyle is pretty handy and was able to repair the damage and we rehung the door.

We hadn't planned on having a party, but as our friends learned that our house was adult free, it happened. I don't want to try to sound like a victim. We welcomed the idea, even if we hadn't thought of it. I will give the details of this party in my next post. Too much happened to try to include it all here.

Now that's
a knife!

Two days before the party, we were playing a game in the front yard. Both of my brothers, Kyle and Trevor were standing with a dozen other teens, beers in hand, playing a game of chicken.

Chicken is a very simple game. Two people stand facing each other about three feet apart. One person throws a bowie knife at the feet of the other, trying to get as close as possible without actually making contact. Extra respect is given to the person who can penetrate the side of the shoe and still not contact the foot. A participant immediately loses if he actually hits the other person or moves his foot when the other person throws. This is called being a 'chicken' and removes you from the game for someone else to take your place.

After going several rounds and the knife getting closer and closer to their feet, they began to raise the stakes, both to scare the other person and to impress the people watching. Kyle started throwing the knife with an underhand toss rather than throwing it straight down between Trevor's feet. This was especially difficult since the blade has to stick in order to get the scoring point, but he was doing it successfully each time.

Trevor did not appreciate this technique since Kyle had to toss the knife up causing it to come close to Trevor's body and sometimes even his face before it would drop and sink into the dirt. However, that was part of the strategy designed to get the other person to move. After Trevor demanded he change his method several times, Kyle performed a beautifully executed low toss, which caused the blade to come up just under Trevor's groin. Trevor did not move.

Trevor bent down to pull the knife out of the ground. When he stood up, he had a smirk on his face and we all saw the look in his eye. We all knew what was about to happen.

Kyle stared hard at Trevor and through his teeth whispered, "You son of a bitch."

Trevor smiled as he raised his arm. He quickly let it drop and sank the blade in the center of Kyle's foot.

Kyle let out a howl, but stood his ground. He then looked at the crowd and yelled, "Did I move? I stayed still, right?"

Several members of the awestruck crowd agreed that he had not moved. He then pulled out the blade, handed it to Trevor and said, "You lose."

He ran into the house to patch up his new injury and we could already hear the blood sloshing in his boots as he moved. After a few minutes, I went in to check on him and was appalled to discover the trail of blood across the carpet and spray of blood on the bathroom wall from when he had swung his leg up into the sink.

I yelled, "Look at this mess!"

Kyle retorted, "Look at my foot!"

I looked at the bloody mess of the sink and the crimson settling into the carpet. "Uh, yeah. That looks awful...look at this mess!"

While Kyle tended to his foot, Trevor and I started cleaning up the blood before it dried hoping that would keep it from staining the carpet.

Now that I am a parent, every time I come home after my daughter has been home without me, I check the 'recently viewed' list on Netflix, examine the condition of the door jambs and demand to see her feet. I have explained that these inspections are for her own protection and necessary precautions for me to perform as a responsible parent, but she doesn't seem to understand. I don't tell her why I am checking because I don't want to give her any ideas.

So far, all inspections have been to my satisfaction proving that my daughter has never tried anything. Hopefully, she never will.