Kick Your Sister's Ass and I'll Make You an Omelet - February 19, 2007
My sister's chubby fist hit me in the face, right above my eye. I drew back, hurt but unfazed. She already had a handful of my hair in her fists. Her fingers looked hungry for more.
"You fat shit! You're a great big fatso! And mom hates you!" Then she kicked me in my stomach and I fell down, gasping for air. Her hands liberated a few more follicles from the back of my head.
I had neither said nor done anything to her. I knew why she had done it. She wanted to test my Grandfather. It was the first time he had ever watched us. She had wanted to know if he would stop it. She was pushing limits.
Looking my Grandfather in his cold, icy blue eyes, my sister spit on me, pushed me down with her foot, and then ran upstairs to her room laughing and insulting me all the way up. I began to cry. My Grandfather sat and watched me.
It wasn't the pain that made me cry. I had been hit many times before, and had since gotten used to it. It was that my Grandfather had sat there and done nothing. I had expected more from him. Scalp bleeding, my nose covered in snot, I eventually collected myself and stood up. I had long ago learned to stop complaining. Nobody ever gave a shit.
My Grandfather stood at the kitchen counter, a towel folded over his shoulder turning on a few burners. I walked by him with my head down. His hand on my chest stopped me.
"She does that to you a lot, doesn't she?" There was no sympathy in my Grandfather's voice. He had never been sympathetic to anybody in his entire life. I guess having a mother who is literally a witch will do that to you. I didn't say anything.
"Well, boy? Answer me. How often does she hit you?"
I rubbed the snot from underneath my nose with the cuff of my sleeve and mumbled. He nodded and patted me on the back.
"You're bigger than she is now. You know that, right?" I nodded. "Your parents won't let you fight back will they?" I nodded again.
My Grandfather was a very frightening man. On most days his face had a slight glower to it, but when enraged, his eyes looked like they had been chiseled out of the heart of a thundercloud. Standing even a few feet away from him, I could almost feel the force of his anger radiating away from his body. He turned back to the stove. The burner could never have hoped to be as hot as the blood in his veins. "I'm going to be making some omelets, kiddo. I'll be occupied for about fifteen minutes. Don't want to ruin them, you see. I suppose I might let anything go by unnoticed. Hell, I'm old Brandon. Who's to say I could hear someone yelling in this house?"
Even at that age I could understand what he was saying. "What about my parents?"
His voice as cold as the grave, and as hard as tombstone marble, my Grandfather replied: "Just you let me worry about your parents." I have never been so glad that I was not my parents.
As though in a dream, I made my way upstairs. I was floating. I was neither euphoric nor sad. I was simply too shocked to feel anything at all. I was going to beat the shit out of my sister.
I pushed her door open without knocking. I felt like a soldier in an invading army. I was not in my own territory. I was in the lair of the beast. It was kill or be killed.
"What the fuck do you want, Brandon?" Her mouth was surrounded by melted chocolate. She had stolen the chocolate bar my Grandfather had bought for me. She had already eaten her own.
I looked at her from the doorway, my shadow growing longer.
She snorted in disgust, and began to lick her fingers. Her fat stomach pressed against the prison of her clothes.
All at once I found myself screaming. It was an inarticulate howl of repressed rage. My sister turned to face me, one of her fingers trailing lazily at the corner of her mouth.
I rushed.
I pounced.
I flew on top of her and hit her in the face with all of my might. We were like two cats convulsing under the force of an electric current. Eventually I positioned myself on top of her with my hand held around her throat. She looked up at me full of fear, her nose bleeding for the first time ever by my hand. I hit her sharply, with all my weight, across her jaw.
She blacked out.
I got off of her and quietly straightened my hair. My knees were shaking.
As I walked downstairs I put my hand to my ear and it came back red with blood. My whole body felt tight and hot. I was going to be a mass of bruises in the days to come. Finally, I made my way into the kitchen. A stool found its way under my ass and I sat down.
Putting a plate in front of me, my Grandfather said nothing as he finished my omelet and slid it out of the pan.
"She still alive up there, kiddo?" Squirting a bottle of ketchup on my breakfast I nodded. My Grandfather patted me on the back so hard I winced. "I'm betting she leaves you alone for a long time after this."
He was right. She never touched me again.
Posted by BC Woods at 12:04 AM
Print Friendly · Digg it · del.icio.us · StumbleUpon · Netscape
Comment Policy:
Anonymous comments are allowed. All anonymous comments and comments from those not registered with TypeKey are moderated. They WILL NOT appear until they are read and approved by a moderator.
It is strongly encouraged that you sign up and login with a TypeKey account. Once you do that, your comments will be immediately posted.
Comments
thats fucking right, your grandpa's pretty good(in his own way)
Posted by: zach at February 19, 2007 12:30 AM
Granddads are full of good advice. Kudos to you both.
Posted by: geigs at February 19, 2007 12:40 AM
You know you're doing something right when you leave the reader wanting more. You'd mentioned this event in posts on the TMMB, but the writing in this post was bar-none. Good job BC.
Posted by: Jesse Douglas at February 19, 2007 12:50 AM
I was waiting for the "I finally whooped the shit out of my sister" story. The payoff was wonderful.
Posted by: Jordan at February 19, 2007 02:59 AM
You fail it. Real arts major-hating engineers use baseball bats. :P
Posted by: Jeffy at February 19, 2007 04:40 AM
Great story BC! I think you should have ended the fight with a quick boot to the muff. Maybe you would have rendered her barren, thus making the world a much better place.
Posted by: Frebis at February 19, 2007 07:44 AM
That was brilliant. I've been waiting for that.
Posted by: Alex at February 19, 2007 08:23 AM
Goddamned Right! Your Grandfather sounds exactly like mine stern, proud, ice like features the man made people shit their pants just with a grunt and a look. The most emotion I ever saw was when I visited his house with my parents while his other grandchildren from his three other sons would run around off the wall when they visited I would silently sit on the floor and watch McHales navy with him (he was retired navy). That was the extent of our interaction but coming from the age where children were silent, He loved me enough to put my name as the only person to be listed on his will I own all his worldly goods and Cherish them. I know exactly where your coming from.
Posted by: The Duke at February 19, 2007 09:26 AM
So how was the omelet?
Posted by: Phil at February 19, 2007 09:35 AM
I got so angry as you walked up the stairs!!!!! I wanted to hit her too!!!! I am glad you got your revenge. How were the eggs?
ANSWER FROM BC: The eggs tasted like sweet, sweet revenge.
Posted by: Christi Lee at February 19, 2007 12:35 PM
wow what a story. nobody else ever has to learn to fight to stick up for themself. thank you for sharing.
Posted by: Jerry at February 19, 2007 02:04 PM
Nice to read something happy here for once.
Posted by: TJMax at February 19, 2007 04:22 PM
Fantastic.
Posted by: Wayland at February 19, 2007 07:24 PM
your grandfather is the shit.
Posted by: Eugene at February 19, 2007 11:52 PM
I love stories that end in victory.
Posted by: Uyen at February 20, 2007 12:25 AM
That is the fuckin' BOMB!! This was an incredibly rewarding story to read, bcWoods. It felt so good to read about you finally knocking the shit out of that horrible brat. Your description of your grandfather's angry eyes was beautiful, too, "chiseled out of the heart of a thundercloud," I loved that.
Posted by: Snowblood at February 20, 2007 02:22 AM
Fucking Awesome. That's the story I was waiting for.
Posted by: double_stop2584 at February 20, 2007 02:11 PM
Awesome. I can't even imagine how euphoric that ass beating must have felt.
Posted by: anon at February 20, 2007 08:01 PM
Jeez..ummm, let me absorb that for awhile.
Posted by: Anonymous at February 20, 2007 11:09 PM
Crazy story. It kind of reminds me of my childhood a little bit.
How's your relationship with your sister now?
Posted by: Brian The Great at February 20, 2007 11:20 PM
It might be a bit hippyish for you, but I was imagining 'The End' by the Doors through reading this, it seemed to suit it perfectly.
Posted by: mav_ian at February 21, 2007 04:58 AM
If you're going to invent a story at least make it worth reading. I want those 2 minutes of my life back i wasted on your tale.
Posted by: The Real Deal at February 22, 2007 08:24 AM
beating women = win (just kidding, sort of...) :) I wish I had a grandparent around to give me sage-like advice
Posted by: Sod at February 22, 2007 09:19 AM
I have learned more about you reading your posts/DDHM than I learned living with you an entire year. You are an awesome writer. Please consider future publishing of the "let's rape the pope" story, which was gold.
FROM BC: This was my room-mate freshman year. See? And people don't believe me when I tell them I'm a recluse.
Posted by: Kevin at February 22, 2007 06:08 PM
lol... oh my this is some funny stuff... i can see it all in my head. :)
Posted by: KP at February 23, 2007 11:42 PM
My heart actually started pounding. I couldn't believe it. It was kind of a shame that it was over so quickly; I wanted some real torture, but I guess the point was made. Great stuff
Posted by: Franco at February 25, 2007 09:46 AM
This is my favorite story that you've written. Mainly because you kick the shit out of Thunder Cunt. Write up a few more where you brutalize the bitch.
Posted by: BeavisSaves at March 2, 2007 03:26 AM
I wish I had a grandfather like this. I had to take comfort in watching my sister ruin her and my parents lives after I had moved on. Hands on sounds so much more satisfying.
Posted by: Anonymous at March 2, 2007 11:08 PM
That was so satisfying to read! Although you should have broken her eye socket/pulverised her kidneys instead of the jaw punch. You want her to suffer dont you? She's not suffering if shes unconscious. Otherwise, well done. If she so much as raises her voice to you again you can just threaten to lay her ass out and she will remember the day. The day you ceased to be a punching bag, the day her brother knocked her the fuck out. Aww shucks! Im so proud of you and I dont even know who you are.
Posted by: SP at March 6, 2007 05:02 PM
inspiring.
Posted by: Stephanie at March 9, 2007 12:43 PM
Damn. That was so good I read it twice. My brother always used to beat the shit out of me, and being 6 years older than me and fucking enormous, I could never really fight back. Then, one day, one glorious and beautiful day, I was 14 years old, sitting at this very desk, and he was throwing his nasty ass socks at me. I jumped up like a rabid crack addict and just beat the piss out of him. When I was done, I jammed both socks into his mouth and left him in a heap on the floor. Reading your story, I remembered exactly how I felt as I walked away and his girlfriend helped him to his feet. Thank you.
Posted by: Anonymous at March 29, 2007 07:50 AM
everything my grandfather wasnt that man is. truly, a man worth remembering.
Posted by: Anonymous at November 11, 2007 05:33 PM
Post a comment
