It was a pivotal moment that steered my life in a different direction.
based on true events
From somewhere deep in the vault of attention deficit came the unleashing of impulsive disorders, ruthless consequences, outlandish boundaries, and the weight of a thousand rampant lessons spun out of control under the full-bore, limitless thinking of ADHD.
It all began when…
I knew she was a cargo short of a full load and more than capable of ripping me apart in seconds, but that didn’t stop me from clunking her on the head with the phone receiver. Bloody loon!
She came at me, spit flying everywhere, screeching—Where were you? Who were you with? When? Why? I don’t even know how she stayed grounded while flapping her arms at full speed—probably a weight issue. Far be it from me to mention an inch of fat during one of my sister’s heated moments.
Nothing good ever comes from spit. The moment saliva takes flight in a sibling’s vicinity, it’s game on. For most of this sisterly hazing, I dodged incoming gunk and ducked under one of her propelling arms, out into the kitchen—open range! Freedom to move, and more importantly, access to a variety of self-defense gear.
That’s when the wall phone became my weapon of choice. The receiver had a fifteen-foot cord—I snatched it from the base and ran. If she pulled, the tension would whip it back like a slingshot. And she did. Whack! The receiver sprang from my hand and nailed her smack in the forehead.
Eek!
It was all downhill from there.
She was fit to be tied. With no one to restrain her, the onslaught continued. What’s a person like me to do but scan the area for another object?
The canister? Too heavy. Sugar-filled, likely.
The toaster? Easy access—but if I missed, I’d never live it down.
I was wasting time.
I yanked open the drawer and grabbed the butt end of a ten-inch knife, holding it up like I was Jack Nicholson in The Shining. “C’mon! I dare ya!” I howled, waving the blade in front of my snaggle teeth.
“Oh, you wanna play that game?!” she screamed.
She charged. First with a slap to my right temple.
Then a backhand to the blade—sent it flying.
Then—crack!—at my left ear.
She was in a frenzy, walloping me from side to side like a ping-pong ball.
“What the ffff—!” I screeched, hauling ass around to the far side of the kitchen table, just out of reach.
There, my courage spiked again, and I let loose a stream of profanity like it was a magic shield. Maybe it would hold her off.
Spoiler: It didn’t.
based on true events
But my sister didn’t back down from anyone for any reason. When she was in demand of something, nothing was an obstacle, not a blade, Paul Bunyan or the four-foot table in between us with a simply Monopoly game on it. That was her weapon of choice. She snatched up that two-foot-long board and cracked me upside the head from across the table!
With my back against the wall, I tried to dodge the incoming blows from the other side. I screamed, she whacked.
My left shoulder.
Right side.
Left arm.
Right hip.
Forehead.
Every damn swing connected.
I had no armor. No coat. No long sleeves. No jeans. Just shorts and a damn tank top! The lashings stung—but there was no way I was telling her where I’d been. Let her wear herself out for all I cared!
It wasn't that we were always in opposition. My sister was the oldest of three. The one my parents replied upon as their babysitter, which put her in a position of authority while sporting a typical fifteen-year-old attitude. The position went to her head and she somehow became the aggressor with a no-tolerance-to-bullshit mindset! Not exactly the kind of person overflowing with cute adoration like a parent would display for their child.
“Listen up, or else," was my sister’s motto.
And me? I was the youngest. Her reluctant protégé. Call me I-bot, because I was On or Off. No gears. No obedience mode. Not exactly built for boot camp. I lived for the chaos, but I also knew—she was terrifying.
Back in the kitchen, I garbbed the table and flung it like it weighed nothing.
YEAH ME! I thought. Yeah right!
All that did was give her a clear path.
She came charging like the Road Runner on rocket fuel—and just inches before she collided with my soul, a voice ripped through the house:
“What the hell is going on around here!”
We froze.
Our mother appeared—wild-eyed, twisted in a crisscross stance, one hand over her tulip, the other flung across her bare breasts.
Hair wild. Legs crossed like a pretzel. Eyes like saucers.
Our jaws hit the floor.
It was horrifying.
It was legendary.
based on true events
Did she have any idea how ridiculous she looked?!
My sister put the Monopoly board down and slowly backed away. She glanced at me—eyebrows raised, mouth hanging open—mirroring my own stunned face.
We were in shock.
Seeing Mom standing butt-naked was more traumatizing than anything else that had happened.
I mean, c’mon... Put some clothes on.
“Oh my gosh, are you alright, Mom?” my sister asked, inching toward compassion—or distraction.
I had no words. None I could force through my curled lip and swollen brows.
Mom was clearly distraught. Over what, I didn’t know—but I sure as hell wasn’t about to ask.
The best we could hope for was a clean escape.
Upstairs. Doors closed. No further drama.
Later, I sat on my bed in full reflection mode.
And pissed.
It didn’t seem fair. First, I had to endure my sister’s wrath—a crazed, karate-judo hybrid with training and zero chill—and now I had to witness my mom’s nude intervention? All because I came home two hours past curfew?
Who did my sister think she was, anyway? She wasn’t my mother. She was a fifteen-year-old tyrant who claimed I was the devil by night.
And where was Mom most of the time? Working two jobs.
Dad had peaced out... as usual.
Grandma would’ve happily locked my ass in a vice.
And my middle sister? She didn’t want anything to do with any of us.
Fact or Fiction?
Truth is always stranger than fiction.
And that’s exactly how life felt—we just assumed cray-cray was a normal everyday occurance in all families.
This short story is just a trivial example in a long string of dysfunction. A blip on the radar compared to everything else that led to this moment—and everything that would come after.
Little did I know…
Life was about to flip me on my ass in more ways than a kitchen brawl ever could.
Rivalry Wars Chapters
CRAZY FOCKER | MISSED MY QUE | STILETTO
CLIFFED | PURSUED| PARDON ME| AMBUSH|DERANGED
CLEAN SWEEP| LELEVELED| BLADE | Window Op