"I'll lick your eggs," the phrase rolled off my twelve year old tongue with conviction born of desperation. I was poised to spring into action and deploy said lick to the two boiled and peeled eggs on the plate my elder brother held. A predator, muscles coiled and twitching, ready to strike.
My brother shielded his eggs from the potential tongue-lashing like a dodo bird protecting its young. Not on your fucken life his face seemed to say, lips pulled back in a snarl; crazed ugly dodo bird that he was.
I recoiled slightly from his ferocity but my hunger for eggs was insatiable and I darted in and out of his protective circle looking for a chance to strike with an egg-snatching hand or an opening in which to deploy my deadly tongue-weapon; either a satisfactory option.
All I wanted was a boiled egg; was it too much to ask? You have two.
My older brother wasn't one for sharing, even as a young kid, and as an almost fifteen year old figured why have one egg when I can have two. He boiled the eggs and that was that. None for me, the younger one. But malnutrition drove me to risky endeavours.
I bobbed and weaved, darted and dived like a spider monkey on crack for minutes, took a few knocks to the head, [probably one of the contributing factors to my knuckleheadiness these days], and a partial poke in the eye which is much like a normal poke in the eye but less painful. No luck. No eggs. I'd have to up my game, renew my efforts, dig deep.
I feigned injury.
Not that my brother would care, but I knew a little misdirection would lull the dumb dodo fucker into a sense of confidence figuring he'd finally vanquished the foe. Err no dude, don't you know the G-dog never fucken quits? Yes folks, even at that young age I didn't know how to accept defeat or how to quit; I was relentless...So a shift of tactics and...
BOOM, eggs licked! Oh the glory!
I'd darted in, easily avoiding the big assholes pathetic fist swinging at my head and grabbed them eggs and administered a quick, but thorough licking. Mission accomplished. Now, you might ask why I wanted to lick them; a good question with a simple answer. I knew he would not eat them if I did and that he'd leave them to me. Mission-success!
The only problem was I didn't expect the pummeling I'd received seconds after the egg-lick. I got pretty well thrashed to be honest, and ended up slinking away, eggless, to lick my wounds. Yep more, but different licking. In hindsight I should have grabbed those eggs and run for it...But when one is intent on deploying an egg-lick there's little else but single focus upon the mission; licking eggs is serious business.
Later that weekend...
...I looked at my sandwich with great pride. Two slices of fresh thick-cut white bread slathered with peanut butter and strawberry jam - Not the shit we buy today, no no no, I mean the good stuff from 1982 back when they actually made it from strawberries.
I was sitting on the lounge and had just taken a bite; oh glorious peanutty jammy white bready goodness! But then my dodo brother came into the room and his somewhat dim-witted face twisted into an ugly mask of revenge. He was not pleased, and neither would I be if my face looked like that! But I digress; he was still cut by the egg-lick deployment from the day before and the fact he had to boil two more eggs.
"I'll lick your sandwich," the dense oaf stated in his boorish, uncouth voice.
I grinned like an idiot and between chewing said, "fuck off."
Ok, maybe I didn't exactly say that, but I've modernised the dialogue because I'm an adult and I swear now.
I knew trouble was brewing though and my brusque devil may care attitude, whilst seeming daringly cavalier, may have been a little flippant in reality. My Quasimodo-looking buffoon-brother shook with rage, his eyes went red and his normally slack jaw went slacker and drool began to run from the corner of his maw. A fearsome countenance if ever there was one.
The lumbering churl came at me and time slipped into slow-motion. I made an attempt to flee of course; I may not be a quitter but sometimes an advance to the rear or, retreating I guess, is the better part of valour you see. As athletic and finely-muscled as I was my god-like magnificence was no match for the nincompoop-chump who had already launched his strike.
I was just too slow, hampered indeed by one hand cradling my precious peanut butter and jam sandwich.
He fell on me like Attila the Hun did the Visigoths in Gaul; hands pummeled, knees jabbed and try as I might to batter away the dullard's attack I was soon defeated; a glorious and heroic defence was made, but all in vain. Defeat.
I wasn't to suffer a mere sandwich-licking. Oh no my fate was far more humiliating and peanutty. The hulking, beastly, hideous skamelar was not satisfied with a mere beating in retaliation for the egg-licking episode. My punishment was far worse.
The big git-brother fought to take my sandwich but couldn't break my monkey-grip upon the treat. Instead he grabbed the hand that held it, twisted it and forced the sandwich into my face...Like right fucken in there.
Peanut butter and jam on the face...Not so bad you say. Well, his palm followed through and mooshed that sandwich up my nose; I think some went into my brain.
With a disdainful maniacal laugh, he removed himself from atop my small but chiselled like a Spartan frame giving me a whack on the head for good measure. I was glad that his weight was off me but was more focused on having mooshed peanut butter and jam in my brain and solidly blocking up both nostrils; trying to breathe.
I look back on my youth with fondness mostly but the days after the great peanut buttering of 1982 were some of my darkest. original im src
I'm not sure how I managed to extricate the sandwich from my nose...Some picking I'd imagine, blowing, maybe cotton swabs on those little sticks. I recall not being able to breathe properly for a week though, and not being able to smell or taste anything but peanut butter and strawberry jam. Sounds pleasant in theory, but in practice is not so.
It was the first and last peanut buttering I received, and the last time I said, I'll lick your eggs, with conviction. However in my family the phrase lives on and occasionally someone utters the words and the story of the the great peanut buttering of 1982 gets retold, of course with the appropriate amount of embellishment.
Design and create your ideal life, don't live it by default - Tomorrow isn't promised so be humble and kind
Discord: galenkp#9209
Very humorous! My experiences were very similar. Only I had a tough, older brother AND sister (with her own violent tendencies) but they didn't waste food! :)
Hmm, I think an older brother and sister could have made for a very dangerous existence for you and I bet you had to be on top of your game. You clearly survived but I bet you have a story or two.
I've never really thought about it until, after laughing, reading your story. I guess I do have a story or two but I'm not sure I'd want to put them out there like that. I may sneak a couple of short ones out. Only for the funny factor, of course. :)
Sometimes stories of one's past must stay enshrouded in mystery.
Lols, that is the first time i have heard the whole story!
Haha, really? I guess every time one of us deploys the I'll lick your eggs line things rapidly descend into chaos. That's how it should be though.
I hope you're feeling ok today.
May your eggs remain unlicked.
That's too funny. Sounds like you deserved it in my books, I want to highfive him XD
Did you ever lick his eggs again?
To be honest, my little sister would have gotten worse than that for tainting my food. Much worse...
Hmm, I don't think the lick-weapon was ever deployed again; sometimes the threat of great power negates the need to use it I guess. My older brother was/is not one to like sharing or not getting his way and I knew from a young age that I'd never be like that myself. It was from about the age of 14 I started drifting apart from any of his influences and so generally managed to avoid the beatings also.
I was also completely different with my two younger brothers and sister.
So message received ..lol what a lesson. Little siblings don't listen with words, only with actions.
I was abused as a kid and I thought it was normal to hit people, like whomever has the iron fist of terror rules kinda deal, I used to be a pretty mean playground mate...I wasn't above elbowing someone off the swing I wanted or hit them in the face with the adjacent one but as I grew up I realized it was really not ok and feel bad for being such a bully but what can you do. I got bullied and bullied back, I dunno. Sounded legit when I was 7 lol
See, you could have grown up to be a real asshole, but you learned the error of your ways and became an angelic and lovely young woman. Funny how life works out huh? Lol.
Always good to have some junk yard dog with though; my multifaceted nature has served me well, one just needs to know when each particular element is required and appropriate.
I just have an understanding how our decisions and actions impact others having no control over it really pissed me off so I had to be like them, I knew it was ugly but I needed to survive. I have been thru some real bad shit as a kid much of it the fault of the adults. I learned that what I needed to survive isn't the skills I needed to flourish as an individual. I didn't want to be them and I saw a lot of them in myself. It bothered me.
I think that's why I like the trade, we are so mean to each other in the heat of the moment but then tomorrow everyone is cool again like it never happened. Don't get me wrong some people I just don't like and vice versa but for the most part we can be pretty mean with words and we all get over it and it makes for funny stories.
I understand; survival, the need to, can inspire many things within a person. I was racially vilified, quite brutally, and when large enough...Well, let's just say I acted in exactly the manner others had acted with me and I punished a few. That scared some people, the ferocity of it, but I think also the cold, detached way in which I meted out said punishments.
I realised I didn't like it though, that being like them wasn't the real me; from then I always thought things through and resorted to violence when it was necessary, not as a matter of course.
I think we need to be us, you know, who we are or desire to be and for me that's a kaleidoscope of things. I've done bad things, things that people may perceive as such, and I've done good things...It's funny though, good and bad just depends on perspective. Overall, I think I'm happy being me, with all my flaws and broken bits. I put the pieces together sometimes and accept that they're a jumble at others. Much like most.
One thing I won't allow myself to be though is a default version based upon the poor actions of other people. I'm happy to stand apart and accept that it may be lonely.
A lot of who I am is due to events (mostly bad) from when I was a kid. It built character, as with you.
That's pretty unfair with the racism. Nobody should have to go thru that. Why does character building have to be so harsh!
I look like the whiter half so I can't say I have experienced too much in that department aside from the sexual harassment that comes with having an "exotic" look. I needed people to think I was batshit crazy and had some arms behind me in case anything ever happened. I had no adult protection as a kid and targeted by pedo networks some of them even school teachers.
People never know or understand the circumstances you were in when making the decisions you have to make. I never bothered myself with peoples opinions and I don't really reveal my plans or what I'm up to too much because of it so I'm like a big mystery to everyone. It scares people because those that know me know I'm calculated and always thinking. I am many things and each person knows a different side/me but they are all me just the same. Like a social chameleon. I have learned to be semi-patient but know when to take out Queen B. Even when I lose it, it's with intent and not out of emotion so much as just sick of it and want the insubordination or behavior to stop and my point isn't coming across trying to be nice about it. Just like the great PB smear, I will find an effective way to get my point across. I'm feared to some a legend to others, I suppose it depends on how each person treat me.
Just like you, I value peace and happiness and just being myself whatever that may be but I don't allow people to walk all over me anymore no matter who they are. That's what makes us badass, we can control our assholery...Know when to hold em, know when to fold em.
I need to break in here someplace and I'm not sure where. I don't think I was purposely abused as a kid but my Dad was a 'spare the rod, spoil the child' guy for sure. I am absolutely certain that I got hit a lot less than he did growing up.
Lol siblings 🤣
Yep.
Oh @galenkp you have some seriously humourous stories, they are great although this made me wince. I have a story about cool-aid that is similar, but had nothing to do with licking anything belonging to that elder bully. Cool aid powder burns the fuck out of the inside of your nose, I'll tell you that, probably a lot more than strawberry jam - I'll leave it at that. Have a super weekend bud.
Lol...Funny and peanutty on this occasion.
Ah yes, the great cool-aid snorting. I had thought it was an urban legend never expecting to actually meet and engage with the snortee. Nice to meet you. 😆
Happy weekend nutbag, so great to have your comment here. Thanks for reading.
Hahaha let's just say it wasn't exactly my choice in this instance - it was forced snorting ok. It was fucking horrific and has scarred me for LIFE! Probably also why I never got into snorting anything really. That shit sucks donkey balls dude. Honestly it is not advisable and if a sibling ever says "hear smell this" run far far far away as fast as your little legs will carry you.
Enjoy :)
Lol...I'm not much of a snorter...Maybe only if I'm asleep, but I can't be sure because I'm asleep.
Lol, I had similar stories from my childhood(not licking part). We would fight each other for food, eat our's fast so that we can steal other's.
I was the youngest among my siblings, so no one would take mine. But I would often steal theirs.
I remember once I fought everyone for mangoes. Everyone would get one after lunch, I wanted 2-3 or more. No one agreed.
So, before lunch, I stole all the mangoes from fridge. Locked myself in a room. And ate all of them. And felt ill...lol...
Now that we all have grown up, most people in my family bring mangoes during summer season, when they come to meet me. So that they get to tell stories like that to their children😂
We all used to fight so much with each other when we were kids. And now we love each other on the same level.
The lick-weapon is one that must be handled with care and only trained specialists should attempt to deploy such advanced weaponry.
You would have fitted in with my brothers and I. (We were brutal though.)
An act of sheer heroism and bravery! Well done. Although, the feeling sick part was inevitable. Was there a punishment meted out? I would have got one.
Families are funny things right? Kids are funny too...I did so many dumb things as a kid that I'm surprised I survived to adulthood.
😂😂, i was laughing all through the read, i do have a little sister with same attitude of your brother. Damn! She was always up for a fight, ready to spice up my rage 😂😂
Well, making people laugh was my intention with this post so it worked. Don't show your sister though, she might get some ideas! 😁
I can very well imagine that sandwich! Heaping with at least an inch of peanut butter and possibly another half inch of jam, held together difficultly by an outer sheathing of bread straining to reach around the pbj contents. Mmmm. I've had many a similar sandwich in my day; alas, I've had no older brother to use it as an assault weapon. I'll trust your wise words that it was not the best of experiences.
Lol, I can tell that you take your PB & J sandwiches seriously, as do I. And yeah, not my finest of moments, but many years later here I am, making jokes...Although...I swear there's still some peanut butter on my brain!
Thanks for reading and your comment, it is greatly appreciated.
😂😂🤣🤣 OMG! That was vivid! You are such a incredible story teller!
Really? How could you do that to your brother? Yea, you should have ran with the eggs as well!
I'm not surprised! 🤭😂 I'm just laughing all through this story. And got kind of scared for you - your brother went on a revenge mission and did worse. You couldn't breathe properly for a week? That was too much.
Sibling jokes and rivalries always make funny, interesting stories later in life. I enjoyed the great peanut buttering of 1982!
Yeah, it was a funny episode, just one of many. I look back on it and laugh now but at the time it's wasn't much fun at all. It's all just part of growing up with siblings I suppose. It's be a different result of it was to happen today though.
Oh to taste that jam just once more; even if that required having it smooshed in my face.
I once tried to relieve myself of nasal hair with a cigarette lighter. It actually worked well, and quickly; but that burnt-hair smell sure lingered.
Clearly you remember how strawberry jam used to taste; like strawberries. Is it too much to ask? Methinks not.
Now, the nasal hair thing. Such an ingenious concept in theory but seemingly not so in practice. One must push the envelope of innovation although yes? 🤣
Lingering burnt hair smells...I think I'd rather peanut butter and jam.
That is peanut butter and jelly abuse! It really is! I have already checked and there is no statute of limitations on that crime!
I have six brothers and two sisters, but, I have not had the pleasure of watching that happen to any of them. They had their own ways to seek revenge.
Sadly, I couldn't help but laugh, because as horrid as it was, that is the kind of revenge brothers seek from one another. They are merciless and relentless when seeking justice, or their idea of justice. The mother in me wants to know where yours was? Mothers have sonic ears and x-ray vision. That, and we know our kids. LOL Of course, the stealth in you both knew how to keep it all under wraps, my sister would just cream bloody murder, so, the jig was up before it started.
Licking his eggs. Oh, yes. That is probably the one my kids use. Who wants to eat after a lick? I think I might, just to tick him off. That was pretty big of you, even back then. :)) Some things never change.
Hilarious. You were a risky kid.
Lol...I'd rather eat it than inhale it of course, but on this occasion that choice was not afforded me. 😀
You're sick and twisted but...Me likey. 😆
So, where was my mum? Well, we grew up in a very large 1902-built homestead on land so us kids were able to get up to all sorts of shenanigans with [mostly] mum not hearing. Of course, as you say, that spidey-sense mothers have often wins the day. On this occasion we were not discovered, initially, although late during the great peanut butter nose picking of 1982 mum discovered what had occurred. To be honest I can't recall what happened to my older brother, probably nothing considering his favoured status although I wasn't punished...Well, just by the peanut butter in my brain maybe.
Looking back yeah I guess so. It carried forward too, as an adult, I've done some things I should have counted to ten then decided not to...But I don't regret them, some of them have had miraculous results for myself and others. I guess I don't feel comfortable quitting when things get tough. Capitulation is not in my makeup Denise. Never was.
Now? Well, daily I deal with things from my past and daily I rise. But I look on these nutbag things I did as a kid with fond memories and call it, my youth. I've written a few here, most ended in some painful way for me, but I wouldn't change a thing. (Well, maybe one or two things only.)
My realization while I was reading it: "You're really a writer @galenkp." 😶
Thank you good sir, I try my best and sometimes manage to string some words together that make sense. I really appreciate your nice remark.
I just had that impression while I was reading it. You're a good writer Mr. Galen, and I hope I can become one. I can nearly give any time for blogging now since there's a lot of stuff going on in the background.
I think anyone can learn to write well. Me for instance, I never finished high school but went out and learned how to put words together. Also, I don't put pressure on myself to be great, I know I will never be. I just wrote to have fun and having that reduced pressure means I actually have fun writing.
I hope things are as well as can be with you, and that you soon find time to write a little, and spend some time on hive.
I appreciate the advice, and I hope to do just as that one of these days. I don't want to promise anything to myself since I tend to get distracted whenever something caught my attention.
If the thing you promise to yourself is compelling enough nothing will distract you from it. That is one of the things behind all of the success I have ever gained in life.
Uhmm..what I mean by distractions are favors from families and friends that sometimes almost takes much of my time. Other times, I have to tend to the family business and provide my help. So, it's getting hard to focus whenever I have to do mine.
I know it should not be like that, but I'm trying to compose and create a good balance in between. ...still need more time to cope up.
Ahhhhh. Little brother. What greater pest is there on this earth? I know of none.
One time my buddy and I captured my brother and his buddy (brother to mine) and tied them up (we were playing cowboys and indians). Everything worked well until our friends mother came to pick them up and we realized that we'd forgotten to un tie them. Like two hours worth :) They weren't happy and neither were our mothers (or fathers when they got home).
About the same time in late fall when the weather was nasty and we couldn't figure out anything to do I grabbed him to see if I could completely hold on to him. It turns out I could! I had him completely immobile and then thought it would be a good idea to lick his ear. He completely lost his mind. After a bit I was ready to quit but couldn't figure out how to let go of him without him trying to beat me.
So I jumped up to my feet and started running for the back door. I was clear and both of us knew if I made it outside I was safe. I pulled the door open and don't remember anything for a while. He'd picked up a paperweight off my Dad's desk and threw it. Bounced off my skull and through the window on the back door. He got a serious spanking for breaking the window. I got the first one for torturing my little brother. I got another after his for breaking the window (I guess because I had my head in the wrong spot).
I have more stories-I'm sure you do too.
Tying up the brothers and leaving them to the elements is always a good time, more so when one forgets them and they suffer from exposure and lack of blood flow to their extremities. Ah yes, such good times spent playing with one's siblings.
That time you immobilised him...Like catching a tiger by the tail...Hard to let go without getting fucken bitten when you do. Also, a masterful deployment of the lick-weapon Tom, I am in awe of your magnificence, or as we say in the business, licknifigance.
And yet...Kudos to your brother for paper-weighting your noggin on the run. You both deserved your thrashing but, like me, you probably knew the right methods of tensing or relaxing depending upon the punishment being meted out. One learns after the first hundred or so.
I have so many stories Tom, I have to hold back or people will get sick of them. In truth, people probably already are.
So. Here's the rest to my story. I was about 20 and pretty big. That would make my brother about 16 and not so much. It was a Saturday night and we were at a party at a friends place. I was barely awake in an overstuffed chair. Randy wandered by and sat on the arm of the chair. He started asking me tough questions like " Do you remember when you licked my ear?" Do you remember when you tied me up and left me? Do you remember ...
After what seems like a really long time that was mostly indictments of me he proceeded to beat the dog shit out of me. Nobody came to my rescue because A: Most everybody realized I had this one coming and B: Nobody wanted to interfere with Randy because he looked possessed.
Haha...There's nothing quite like a surprise beating to pep one up!
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAA XD
Though seriously if you had managed to get hold of the egg to lick it, why didn't you just eat it, then you may have been beaten up but you would have scarfed at least one egg XP
Hmm, this is an interesting point and one I had figured someone would point out.
If I had time to deploy the lick-weapon to the egg why not them mung it down instead.
Well, the answer is simple really, but may be difficult to comprehend. You see, when one becomes focused on deploying the devastatingly effective lick-weapon one gets into a trance-like state of focus, referred to in the biz as lickfocus, and when in this state all other lesser matters become difficult to grasp. So, when my little spider-monkey hand grabbed that egg it didn't even occur to me that I could wack it down the gob and indeed consume it. I licked it and placed it back on the plate fully expecting to have the chance to eat it later. I did not, clearly.
So, there's the reason. Why may this be a difficult thing to comprehend? Well, only one who has been in the lickfocus state could ever understand the fog of lick. It is much like the fog of war, but more lick-focused.
So...That explains it clearly I'd say. 😉
Siblings.... LOL
Mmm, problematic at times. 🤣