Ever have one of those days? You know, the kind where you get to finally find out what urine tastes like, and take a knuckle-puck to the face? Unfortunately, I have. A ‘knuckle-puck’ is not a clever way of saying I was punched. I’m talking about a Mighty-Ducks-inspired hockey shot that drove a puck, courtesy of my brother, right into the cheek of a sad, awkward 8-year-old clutching a Cabbage Patch Kids lunchbox. If you haven’t heard of The Mighty Ducks: you suck and there’s simply no way we can go on being friends any longer. We’re done. (Okay, I’m only joking.) I don’t think I’ve ever even eluded to the fact that I have an older brother. But, he does exist, and he was being an asshole that day. Now, I will say in his defense – I don’t think he was actually aiming at me. Or… that’s what I like to tell myself, at least.
It was winter in Connecticut at the time. When I ran inside crying to my mom, she sent me back out to lay in the snow. She wasn’t going to let me use the frozen peas she paid for to rest on my bruise when there was free snow just laying around everywhere outside. C’mon, now.
This is where a shitty situation turned, well… pissy. All I can say is: don’t believe it when someone tells you yellow snow is just extra lemonade they dumped out earlier in the day. My 8-year-old self can assure you – it’s not.
It was a rough day. Boys, I tell ya.