Yeah, I did that

This week's prompt from Mama Kat is to tell about something mean I did to my sister.

Oh boy howdy can I tell some stories.

This may come as a shock to you, but I did not spring forth fully-formed into the grown-up bitch that I am. Oh no. This took work. I perfected the craft torturing Mandy our entire childhoods.

But, in my defense, she was just begging for a beat down most of the time. I am not the only one that calls her the "golden child". She knows its true. I swear, my parents thought she could do no wrong. They were sorely mistaken on that matter, but that has nothing to do with this story. But if you all start beating up on me for being so evil to her, I will tell some of them, so keep that in mind.

I am sure there is no one story about how I mistreated her that stands out.

Some of the highlights are as follows:

Once, when she was sleeping, Samantha and I put gerbil food in her mouth and it melted on tongue. Well, she should not have been sleeping with her mouth open. Tell me, which one of you would not have done the same?

I would steal food from the kitchen, like potato chips back in the day when two skinny bags came in one big bag, and I would eat them all and hide the empty bag under her bed or somewhere she would get blamed for it. This food addiction is another thing that is not new to me. I am pretty sure that mom always knew it was me, cuz God knows I am rarely as slick as I think I am. I would flat lie to mom and blame Mandy for it every single time.

Another doozy--I would give Mandy money to buy brownie mix or something at the store up the street. It is quite likely I stole the money from her in the first place. I would send her up the street, cook the brownies and sell her part of them for more than they cost in the first place. And then make her take the part that fell on the floor anyway.

Interesting how all these stories have to do with food.

I would also beat the living hell out of her. Not real fights, but I would slap her around some. Once she had a handprint in the middle of her back and I swore I did not do it. Well who in the hell did it then? I was the only other person there. I think that is her favorite story of how mean I was. She usually leaves out the part how she could completely throw me across the room by kicking me, of course. She is 3 years younger than me, but she kicked like a damn donkey. I bet there was not a person alive she could not send flying with those legs. One of my better moves was to stand on her sternum, which for some ridiculous reason makes us both hysterical talking about it now--she could not kick me from there. I was a skinny kid so not so much danger with that, but it seemed like it at the time.

We were rowdy kids, so there were a lot of times when the entire house would shake, the windows would rattle and something would break--then it would get silent. Mom would yell from another room, asking what we were doing, and the answer was always "nothing". We were not about to rat each other out. I promise though, it was usually her tearing up something. Mostly though, mom would yell "Paige stop it!"

What was that about you think?