By SMF 1998

Think back to the days when you were young- ya know, when you woke up early Saturday morning to catch the latest episode of the Smurfs. After watching Gargamel chase around the blue little critters, ya had some excess energy to work off- usually this took place in the abusal of one or more of your younger siblings (if you were the young one, well then you got your ass beat on a regular basis).

For me, nothing was more appealing then laying into my little brother. Boy, this kid took a beat down on a regular basis. While the fist fights were a minimal, I think the Hannibal Lecter-like tortures that I had devised were more than enough to make-up for the smack downs. For example- once a week I usually locked him in the basement and forget about him- so there he is, a little 4,5,6 (he got wise after 6) yearold in this dreary and dark basis (he couldn’t find the lights) trapped- sometimes for 2 or 3 hours before my mother would come and unlock him. “Seth, why did you do that to your brother?” “Do what Mom?” “Lock him in the basement?” “Uhhh… I dunno” (a popular answer that worked about 33% of the time).

Back before Monday Night Nitro and all this wrestling theatrics, there were the real deal wrestlers- ya know- The Iron Sheik, The Russians, The Road Warriors, Junkyard Dog, etc. Well of course I needed someone to test out the validity of these wrasslin’ maneuoevers and though he was usually an unwilling volunteer- I got to do more than just some demonstrations. I remember giving him the piledriver- boy, I never seen him cry so much- I thought I had broke his neck.

Often or not, I used him as human punching bag. We’d also play tackle football and I’d toss him around like a dinner salad. He thing was, he was a glutton for punishement and would rarely go crying to mommy unless I really did something out of the ordinary (like whack him with a Matchbox car, or throw a arrow, yes, a real one, at him).

Oh, don’t feel sorry for him- he had him revengeful moments too. One time the little weasel slammed a basketball against my head and I hit the cement wall in the basement- I think I had a minor concussion. Or the time he stole 20 bucks from me and bought icecream for his entire 2nd grade class.

When he got older- it was more difficult to smack him around, so I had to resort to verbal assaults which often proved just as effective. He used to have teeth like a beaver so every day at dinner he got the barrage of “buck” jokes (“whats up, buckaroo?”, “hey, you gonna saw down another tree?” “jeez, those are the hugest calcium deposits ive ever seen”) But then he got braces which was even better for my one-liners (“Hey, could you open your mouth more, I think I can hear 96.1 coming through” “Man, I wonder how much I could get recycling your braces”) but soon enough those came off too so I had to resort to the all-time generic standby: attacks on his manhood. “Who would ever date YOU?” “Are you sure you arent gay?” “You have one friend- he has no friends” (Rodney Dangerfield quote).

Well now that he is in college and is bigger than me he can fend for himself a little more- the days of me bodyslamming him on the tile or charging him a quarter to sit on my bunkbed are over. Though I still can dish out the verbal abuse, its not as a exciting as before. So I dedicate this to my brother who turns 20 today and who will make more money than me in life.  Happy B-day, and you still owe me 20 bucks…plus interest.