Setting the record straight, I just want to clarify what actually happened during the 100 to 150 times that we brawled while the parents were out of the house.
The fight would usually start as an unorganized mess. Breklyn would tell me to do something in an overextension of her babysitting powers and when I objected it would become an argument. The arguments tended to take place in the location where the punishment would occur. She generally tried to punish me by sending me to my room, which was a punishment when the parents were gone and we could essentially do whatever we wanted (including indoor hockey tournaments, tennis in the hallway, obstacle course on the patio and tying up the youngins to the slide). After I refused to go to my room, Breklyn would generally attempt to physically force me into the room, at which point a brawl ensued. While I tried (usually unsuccessfully) to recruit my only brother, Zach, to help me fend off the four sisters I generally ended up fighting them all alone.
The fights usually took place on the queen sized bed in Breklyn's room where she recruited the sisters to gang up on me. Even with all four sisters ruthlessly clawing, biting, pinching and hitting I could generally win the fight. I was a scrawny brawler and with one foot for each young one and an arm for each of the older two I could keep two out of four of the sisters in a constant state of tears while I worked on the other two with a steady stream of kicks, punches and headlocks. Whenever I felt like it was going too far and they might pin me down I would just push one off the bed and endure the possibility that they had a bruise that could be proven when the parents returned. The fights went on like this for minutes or hours, I could never tell.
I had only one weakness: the tickling. When it became clear that my awesome scrawny powers would never be beaten by the four sisters, they would resort to the most ruthless, underhanded and disgusting trick in the book. They would tickle me ceaselessly while taunting me that I would pee my pants. Nothing could be worse for an 8-14 year old boy than the possibility that I would pee my pants and someone would find out. They knew that if they tickled for long enough, my scrawny powers would be overcome and my bladder would get the best of me. I had only one power that could beat them: my incredible intelligence.
Each time they brought me to the verge of losing control I would ensure that they were too scared to go over the edge through a series of pleas and then false claims that I had in fact peed in my pants. With the tickling sister in a position that they would get pee on them if I had, I would make the claim and watch as they scurried away, fearful of the possibility of getting urine on them. While they retreated I would look for an escape to the bathroom where I could safely lock them out and simultaneously relieve my over-exerted bladder. Each time they claimed victory under the false belief that I had soiled my pants and each time they were wrong. To this day they still believe my convincing lies told under duress, but I know the truth. Deep down, I know that they also know that they never really won those fights. Even though they took advantage of my weakness they never truly beat me.
Whenever I come up against adversity to this day, I always keep the claim of urination as a last resort. Thankfully, no judge or attorney has ever pushed me to the limit the way that the four sisters did and I hope they never do.
The fight would usually start as an unorganized mess. Breklyn would tell me to do something in an overextension of her babysitting powers and when I objected it would become an argument. The arguments tended to take place in the location where the punishment would occur. She generally tried to punish me by sending me to my room, which was a punishment when the parents were gone and we could essentially do whatever we wanted (including indoor hockey tournaments, tennis in the hallway, obstacle course on the patio and tying up the youngins to the slide). After I refused to go to my room, Breklyn would generally attempt to physically force me into the room, at which point a brawl ensued. While I tried (usually unsuccessfully) to recruit my only brother, Zach, to help me fend off the four sisters I generally ended up fighting them all alone.
The fights usually took place on the queen sized bed in Breklyn's room where she recruited the sisters to gang up on me. Even with all four sisters ruthlessly clawing, biting, pinching and hitting I could generally win the fight. I was a scrawny brawler and with one foot for each young one and an arm for each of the older two I could keep two out of four of the sisters in a constant state of tears while I worked on the other two with a steady stream of kicks, punches and headlocks. Whenever I felt like it was going too far and they might pin me down I would just push one off the bed and endure the possibility that they had a bruise that could be proven when the parents returned. The fights went on like this for minutes or hours, I could never tell.
I had only one weakness: the tickling. When it became clear that my awesome scrawny powers would never be beaten by the four sisters, they would resort to the most ruthless, underhanded and disgusting trick in the book. They would tickle me ceaselessly while taunting me that I would pee my pants. Nothing could be worse for an 8-14 year old boy than the possibility that I would pee my pants and someone would find out. They knew that if they tickled for long enough, my scrawny powers would be overcome and my bladder would get the best of me. I had only one power that could beat them: my incredible intelligence.
Each time they brought me to the verge of losing control I would ensure that they were too scared to go over the edge through a series of pleas and then false claims that I had in fact peed in my pants. With the tickling sister in a position that they would get pee on them if I had, I would make the claim and watch as they scurried away, fearful of the possibility of getting urine on them. While they retreated I would look for an escape to the bathroom where I could safely lock them out and simultaneously relieve my over-exerted bladder. Each time they claimed victory under the false belief that I had soiled my pants and each time they were wrong. To this day they still believe my convincing lies told under duress, but I know the truth. Deep down, I know that they also know that they never really won those fights. Even though they took advantage of my weakness they never truly beat me.
Whenever I come up against adversity to this day, I always keep the claim of urination as a last resort. Thankfully, no judge or attorney has ever pushed me to the limit the way that the four sisters did and I hope they never do.
You did...just admin it...finally.
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