Fun at Home

By the time I was 6 , we had moved maybe 6 times. I began to think that maybe we were being chased by aliens or perhaps even Bigfoot. In retrospect it could have been the sad fact that we had left a few of our previous homes a bloody mess. Whatever the reason as I started first grade we moved to a new house. And for the first time moving didn't bother me. It seemed like we were making a fresh start. Dad had stopped drinking so much and got a job as an exterminator. He even drove around in a van with a big dead bug on top of it. At 6 years of age I thought there was nothing cooler then that. My 10 year old sister would cringe and run and hide whenever she saw that van coming our way.(perhaps that's why I liked it so much.)
Life was good. After 2 years I finally got off that damn blanket and could run and play with other kids. I don't think I stopped moving even when I was asleep. My teachers had to always tell me to stay in my seat. In every picture and home movie of the time I'm always either running or moving my mouth. Usually both.
But I hadn't forgot the laughter of my big brothers and sister as I sat on that hated blanket. I waited until I was fully healed to do anything about it.(I most likely waited longer then I had to ,but my parents had instilled in me the fear that I would break into 5 very messy pieces) Finally In 1st grade,a little after a month after moving to our new home I struck back.
I remember standing in the hallway by the top of the stairs. To my left I could look into Geno and John's bedroom. Geno lay on his bed reading a book .It was one of those John Carter Warlord of Mars books. I looked into his room for a few seconds until Geno saw me.
"What are you looking at ?" He said.
I smiled at Geno.
Then I threw myself down the stairs. I believe I managed to hit every step on the way down. All the way down those steps I screamed bloody murder. As I hit the bottom my parents came running in from the kitchen. Geno now stood at the top of the stairs trying to figure out what happened.
Mom and Dad picked me up and asked me what happened.
"Geno (sob) threw(sob)me (sob) down the stairs!(sob sob) AND HE LAUGHED AT ME!"( I thought that was a really good touch)
Dad narrowed his eyes and looked up the stairs at Geno who was now holding his hands up in a "Not me " gesture and backing down the hallway. Dad handed me to Mom and began to walk up the stairs.
"Think you're a big man for picking on a little boy half your size?!" As Dad marched up the stairs he took his belt off. "Are you trying to break the boy in 5 pieces? We've just put him back together! "
I'm not sure how bad he whipped Geno, but Geno gave me dirty looks for the few weeks. I just smiled sweetly back at him, content in my knowledge that he couldn't touch me.
After that I became a terror to my brothers and sister.
I found out it was much simpler to accuse them of hitting me in my side where my scar was then to throw myself down the stairs every few weeks. And far less painful
"Mom ! Dad! John hit me in my side.....And He Laughed at me!" (I was over doing it at that point)
Mom and Dad would come in and punish John for hitting me.
"Mom ! Dad ! Rose hit me in my stomach!"
Mom and Dad would come in and punish Rose for hitting me
"Mom! Dad! Steve....."
Steve hit me.
Hard.
In my gut.
By my scar.
He hit me so hard I found it hard to breath.
Mom and Dad came in. They punished him for hitting me. All the while he smiled at me.
I never ever accused them of hitting me again. They had figured out the weak point in my plan. If they were going to get in trouble for doing something they might as well go ahead and do it.
Looking back at it , they really didn't make that much fun of me while I sat on that blanket. I was just being a brat.
Thank God Steve knocked some sense into me.