I had a lot of time to sit on my ass and think today while waiting for the Kerosene people to show up and fill my tank. They told me they'd be there "in the afternoon" which apparently meant any time between 12:01 pm and 6:00 pm. Anyway, I began reflecting on the things I did as a youngster. Being the middle child, I was pretty much doing anything I could to get attention, ethical or not. My little brother and sister were the tragic victims of my attempts.

I remember one of my very first "practical jokes" was played on Vickie, my little sister. I was like 5... We were still living in Lafayette at the time. Vickie was maybe three or so. For some reason, she really liked salt. Don't ask me why. She was three. Three year olds are always weird. Anyway, in the back yard, we had some white sand around our little treed area. I grabbed a huge piece of eucalyptus bark, piled it high with sand, and went in search of poor Vickie. When I found her, I showed her the 'salt' that I had found, and offered to pour it into her mouth for her. Ever trusting of her older sibling, she obliged. I poured a pretty good amount into her before she realized that this was not salt at all. She started crying, and told on me. I knew I was gonna be in BIG trouble, so I ran and hid. unfortunately, our small back yard didn't have a whole lot of space to hide in, so I opted for going behind a tree roughly two inches in diameter. I was found, and spanked.

Yep. That pretty much set the standard for the rest of my early childhood. Later on, we adopted my Pit Bull, Pinkie. I was 10, kirk and vickie were seven or eight. I told them that if they let Pinkie lick their Popsicles, and then they licked directly after her, they would absorb her ability to run really, really fast. This entertained me to no end, watching them lick their popsicles, then race against each other.

When we lived in Concord, we were on a pretty good sized piece of land, but we were only allowed to play in a small fenced area. Everything else was off-limits. I told kirk and vickie that if they went outside the fence, and ran down the hill, small blood-sucking animals that looked like dirt-clods would jump up and bite their legs. I called them "Leg Biters". I was very original.

I even went so far as to convince my little sister that I turned into a fox at night, and lived in a culvert at the bottom of the property.

I think we all turned out alright despite all that, however.

You know what though? I really suck at writing conclusions.