First Memory
I must have been around two or three years old at the time. We were living in Ann Arbor, Michigan at the time while my dad was getting his MBA. It was just my parents, me, and my older brother at the time and we were living in married student housing or family student housing or whatever the fuck it is that they call it up there. Now the area of student housing we lived in had a pretty large sandbox in the middle of some of the buildings (I’m pretty sure this is the sandbox, but I’m not positive).
Being a two to three year old boy at the time I apparently loved to play in the sandbox, get dirty, and hit on the ladies (while drinking Bourbon and coke from a sippy cup and smoking a cigarette). One day I was playing in the sandbox with another child I knew that was about my age. We were sitting in the sandbox discussing Reaganomics, the arms race, and the assassination attempt on Reagan (my acquaintance was on Reagan’s side for all three issues; I took the opposite position on all three); when the political discussion became old we started playing with the sand. In typical three year old fashion, this involved the usual digging and pile building, but also sand throwing.
Of course I had been told by my parents not to throw sand (and I assume the same was true for my colleague), but I was undeterred. I saw serious theoretical holes in their theory that “throwing sand is mean” and “you could hurt someone.” The sand fight continued when all of a sudden disaster struck: that fucking asshole got sand in my eye and my mouth.
At this time in my life I had not fully developed my problem solving skills nor had I perfected by crisis response system. Without this training, and I hesitate to admit this, I reacted in a way that was less than perfect. That’s right, I went crying to my parents. I ran into the house in tears because my eye hurt like a bitch and I hand sand in my mouth. I told my mom that I was playing in the sandbox with my friend, that we started throwing sand, and that that cockfuck got sand in my eye. My parents (or maybe just my mom; I don’t remember) calmed me down, gave me water to drink and washed out my eye with water (which made it even worse because I absolutely hated getting water in my eyes; seriously; even a few years later when I was taking swimming lessons I wouldn’t put my head beneath the water unless I had goggles; I would only take baths and was slightly terrified of showers; yeah; that bad).
Once I was calmed down and the golf ball sized grains of sand were out of my eye my parents sat me down. They told me that I shouldn’t have been throwing sand and that it was probably an accident. I learned two things that day: 1) never admit that you were partaking in activities that violate your parents’ rules unless you are positive that they have hard evidence of your violation; and 2) my parents weren’t going to do anything to get that little cockshit in trouble for throwing sand at me and scarring me for life. So my parents reminded me not to throw sand and then sent me back outside to play.
At this point I was pretty calmed down and feeling good about myself. Happy thoughts of trucks and Transformers were going through my head. But then I saw him. That fucking asshat was still sitting in the sandbox playing. How dare he; wait, HOW DARE HE!!???!?!? The bloodlust hit fast and hard and I started seeing red. It was on. I quickly took in my surroundings and noticed two very important things: 1) not only were my parents inside the house, but there were no adults at all outside; and 2) that little load of shit had his back to me and was blissfully unaware of my returned presence. I don’t remember what the weather was like at that point, but I do know that the chance of revenge stood at three hundred percent.
Like a soldier in the underbrush of Da Nang or swimming through the Mekong River, I slowly crept up behind him. I was still unsure what I was going to do at this point. Of course I didn’t realize that I hadn’t fully thought the plan through until I was pretty close to him. I had to decide very quickly if I wanted to slit his throat and leave him for dead or just wound him. I quickly decided that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander; or maybe I decided what goes around comes around; or maybe it was treat others the way you want to be treated; I’m sure it was one of those things though.
Except this was revenge; I couldn’t just sprinkle a little bit of sand in his eye; I had to teach this kid not to fuck with me. I quickly gathered up two handfuls of sand; I crammed as much sand as possible into my hands. I continued towards my unsuspecting victim. I finally got right behind him and had to quickly decide the best way to execute this plan. I glanced around once more for parents, adults, and tattletales; seeing none, it was finally time to strike.
In one quick motion from behind I reached around to his face, one of my hands on either side of his head. One hand went directly for his mouth; the other for his eyes. I crammed a handful of sand into his mouth and, with my other hand, not only dumped sand into both his eyes, but also kind of rubbed it in a little bit. This dipshit had no idea what was going on; he had no idea who it was that was attacking him. I finally released him and he jumped to a standing position and then turned around to see who was fucking with him. Through sandy, squinting eyes he saw me and a look of recognition spread across his face while he was spitting sand out of his mouth and trying to get the sand out of his crying eyes.
I stood there and stared at him for a couple seconds, and then it was time to speak; it was time to teach the lesson I had come to teach; I had to make it clear what was going on and why this had just happened.
I opened my mouth and calmly said, “My mom says you aren’t supposed to throw sand.” He turned and ran to his house and I strolled back to mine where I sat in my chair, put on my reading glasses, picked up the latest copy of The Wall Street Journal, lit up a fine Cuban cigar, and sat and read. And dwelled. Oh, did I dwell. I dwelled on the feeling of satisfaction that comes from a job well done.
And by “job” I mean “getting someone back.”
What’s the moral of the story? Don’t piss me off; I love revenge. Oh, and also, don’t throw sand. My mom told me it’s not nice. You might get hurt.
Being a two to three year old boy at the time I apparently loved to play in the sandbox, get dirty, and hit on the ladies (while drinking Bourbon and coke from a sippy cup and smoking a cigarette). One day I was playing in the sandbox with another child I knew that was about my age. We were sitting in the sandbox discussing Reaganomics, the arms race, and the assassination attempt on Reagan (my acquaintance was on Reagan’s side for all three issues; I took the opposite position on all three); when the political discussion became old we started playing with the sand. In typical three year old fashion, this involved the usual digging and pile building, but also sand throwing.
Of course I had been told by my parents not to throw sand (and I assume the same was true for my colleague), but I was undeterred. I saw serious theoretical holes in their theory that “throwing sand is mean” and “you could hurt someone.” The sand fight continued when all of a sudden disaster struck: that fucking asshole got sand in my eye and my mouth.
At this time in my life I had not fully developed my problem solving skills nor had I perfected by crisis response system. Without this training, and I hesitate to admit this, I reacted in a way that was less than perfect. That’s right, I went crying to my parents. I ran into the house in tears because my eye hurt like a bitch and I hand sand in my mouth. I told my mom that I was playing in the sandbox with my friend, that we started throwing sand, and that that cockfuck got sand in my eye. My parents (or maybe just my mom; I don’t remember) calmed me down, gave me water to drink and washed out my eye with water (which made it even worse because I absolutely hated getting water in my eyes; seriously; even a few years later when I was taking swimming lessons I wouldn’t put my head beneath the water unless I had goggles; I would only take baths and was slightly terrified of showers; yeah; that bad).
Once I was calmed down and the golf ball sized grains of sand were out of my eye my parents sat me down. They told me that I shouldn’t have been throwing sand and that it was probably an accident. I learned two things that day: 1) never admit that you were partaking in activities that violate your parents’ rules unless you are positive that they have hard evidence of your violation; and 2) my parents weren’t going to do anything to get that little cockshit in trouble for throwing sand at me and scarring me for life. So my parents reminded me not to throw sand and then sent me back outside to play.
At this point I was pretty calmed down and feeling good about myself. Happy thoughts of trucks and Transformers were going through my head. But then I saw him. That fucking asshat was still sitting in the sandbox playing. How dare he; wait, HOW DARE HE!!???!?!? The bloodlust hit fast and hard and I started seeing red. It was on. I quickly took in my surroundings and noticed two very important things: 1) not only were my parents inside the house, but there were no adults at all outside; and 2) that little load of shit had his back to me and was blissfully unaware of my returned presence. I don’t remember what the weather was like at that point, but I do know that the chance of revenge stood at three hundred percent.
Like a soldier in the underbrush of Da Nang or swimming through the Mekong River, I slowly crept up behind him. I was still unsure what I was going to do at this point. Of course I didn’t realize that I hadn’t fully thought the plan through until I was pretty close to him. I had to decide very quickly if I wanted to slit his throat and leave him for dead or just wound him. I quickly decided that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander; or maybe I decided what goes around comes around; or maybe it was treat others the way you want to be treated; I’m sure it was one of those things though.
Except this was revenge; I couldn’t just sprinkle a little bit of sand in his eye; I had to teach this kid not to fuck with me. I quickly gathered up two handfuls of sand; I crammed as much sand as possible into my hands. I continued towards my unsuspecting victim. I finally got right behind him and had to quickly decide the best way to execute this plan. I glanced around once more for parents, adults, and tattletales; seeing none, it was finally time to strike.
In one quick motion from behind I reached around to his face, one of my hands on either side of his head. One hand went directly for his mouth; the other for his eyes. I crammed a handful of sand into his mouth and, with my other hand, not only dumped sand into both his eyes, but also kind of rubbed it in a little bit. This dipshit had no idea what was going on; he had no idea who it was that was attacking him. I finally released him and he jumped to a standing position and then turned around to see who was fucking with him. Through sandy, squinting eyes he saw me and a look of recognition spread across his face while he was spitting sand out of his mouth and trying to get the sand out of his crying eyes.
I stood there and stared at him for a couple seconds, and then it was time to speak; it was time to teach the lesson I had come to teach; I had to make it clear what was going on and why this had just happened.
I opened my mouth and calmly said, “My mom says you aren’t supposed to throw sand.” He turned and ran to his house and I strolled back to mine where I sat in my chair, put on my reading glasses, picked up the latest copy of The Wall Street Journal, lit up a fine Cuban cigar, and sat and read. And dwelled. Oh, did I dwell. I dwelled on the feeling of satisfaction that comes from a job well done.
And by “job” I mean “getting someone back.”
What’s the moral of the story? Don’t piss me off; I love revenge. Oh, and also, don’t throw sand. My mom told me it’s not nice. You might get hurt.
posted by Naked Drinking Coffee at 9/01/2006 04:17:00 PM
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