Mrs4444 wrote a post this morning about the torture her older brother put her and his younger siblings through, in what appeared to be a quest to eventually be a highly paid pro wrestler.
I was the eldest of five, so my two younger brothers weren't able to torture me by more physical means. Instead they became the masters of psychological torture, usually involving the use of eels.
To this day, thanks to one of my brothers, I have this fear that something is going to come out of the toilet and get me.
At the tender and impressionable age of 10, I'd just sat down on the toilet and had started to pee, when I heard this frantic splashing coming from under my nether regions. Peering down into the toilet, from between my legs, I saw this ginormous eel trying to frantically slither up the sides of the toilet bowl !
I exited the bathroom, screaming fit to wake the dead, to be confronted by the sight of my brother and a couple of his friends, rolling around the floor, laughing their stupid heads off.
We lived across from a river and at spawning time, the eels would migrate from the river, across the end of our yard and to a culvert where they'd produce their young.
As a result, my brothers and their friends would spend many a happy hour collecting eels, which would then get dropped from trees on our heads, down our backs, put in our beds and so on.
Don't you just love brothers!!
Cheers
41 minutes ago
