Now in case you don't remember, or you just plain don't know the Crackheads are my siblings...all five of them. I'll give you a quick rundown of who they are and their ages:
Sa-nearly 20
Twerp- nearly 17
K.K.- 13
Nose- 9
Bubba- 9, and the only boy
Now to regale you with a trip down memory lane...
Twerp is the baby of our family. Now I know it looks like she is the third born, but remember the whole "I come from a big and wacky family" thing? well, here is another example of it. Twerp is the last child that came from the P&J union (P&J being my biological parents) you know what...I'm just going to make a family tree then you can figure all this nonsense out on your own...because, hell, it still confuses me sometimes (Oh and because The Terrorist doesn't have any sense of humor he is now known as The PITA):
Got it now? Me either. Oh and notice the spelling error lines? To make this thing I downloaded free software, and, well, it wouldn't let me copy and paste, so to stick it to the man (which I love to do) I hit print screen and pasted it into Paint. Haha! Take that the man!
Anywho...back to Twerp. Since she was the baby Sa and I got hours of enjoyment out of torturing her, and her best friend Dani. Now we lived on a cul-d-sac in the corner house. There were quite a few other children in our circle and endless ways to make trouble on those boring, hot summer afternoons. We also had a neighborhood Ice Cream Truck. Now on one particularly hot afternoon Sa and I were inside playing around on our electronic keyboard and we discovered that we had the same song on it that the Ice Cream Truck played ( The Entertainer click the link and press play).) Well, we looked at each other and shared a mental moment of pure elementary school evil. We looked out the window and saw that many of our comrades were playing some form of kickball in the circle. Well, after pushing the keyboard over to wall,under the window, we pushed up the glass, pressed "play" on the piano and ever so slowly began to raise the volume on the keyboard. Immediately, everyone stopped playing and ran inside to grab handfuls of nickels, dimes, quarters, and the lucky ones found whole dollars in purses. They all rushed to the stop sign on the corner and waited with sweet anticipation for the sugar high mobile to come around the corner. Sa and I slowly lowered the volume, and one by one people began walking away. When the last person was halfway home, we slowly raised the volume again. Shoulder slumps disappeared, smiles returned, and everyone bounded again to the stop sign. And slowly but surely, we lowered the volume and, once more, everyone walked away, I think some might have had tears in their eyes. We continued this vicious cycle for about 20 minutes, until nobody came running anymore. About half an hour later, when everyone had gone inside lamenting their lack of fake creamy goodness, the Ice Cream Truck really did drive by, and Sa and I got our normal fare of rock hard Sno-Cones and Push pops, which enjoyed by ourselves, on our front porch swing, laughing about our afternoon "mischief".
Good times....good times.
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