In the same painful dimension

As I was saying, there were times when my brother and I appeared to be in the same very painful dimension. I clearly remember swinging from a tree with a rope around my waist. A rope my brother had tied around my waist (in a slip knot, I might add) just before pushing me out of our tree house to study the effects of gravity on a kid sister.

There was also the time he talked me into playing catch with a brick (I have the scar as a reminder) and the horrifying day he left me in the little red wagon in the middle of the chicken pen to let the cackling beasts peck my eyes out. Luckily for me they only got as far as looking at me sideways before I risked life and limb in a mad dash for the gate. I’ve never had much to do with chickens, except for eating their legs, since.

All these pale in comparison,however, to the time he tossed me out of a moving pickup. Okay, he didn’t physically pick me up and throw me out, but I landed on my back in the pasture nonetheless and he was driving. We were trying to catch my horse, who was a wily one, and just the click of the truck door opening would send her running. Soooo, I was just holding the door unlatched, when my brother stepped on the gas like he was in a drag race or something, and I went flying.

To his credit, he was mortified, but that didn’t help my back any.

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