Flashback Friday- Dave's Turn

Dave's little sister is doing a project for school where she is doing a compilation of stories from her family of the past. Well here is one of Dave's most vivid memories growing up. Oh the joy of older siblings and I so so wish I had a picture of this.

Written by Dave:
I am afraid that the only scary story that I have doesn't involve the mysterious or unknown, but rather consists of the antithesis of paranormal. In fact you might say it is the norm growing up with an older brother like mine. Simplistic, yes, but scary as hell, nonetheless, for just a skinny tike like me. And so, since you are inquiring about the real "SPOOKY" tales we have to tell let me begin with mine.

It all started out on a normal autumn day in the small town of Van Meter. Keeping to myself as I normally did, I thought that I would begin my day with a little play of the ole' GI JOE dolls that I had grown so dearly fond of. Little did I know that my day would turn into me being treated like that all too familiar "YO JOE"-Srgt. Slaughter. My psychie would never be the same after this seamlessly pleasant autumn day. Right as i am about to commence an epic battle between between the "Good Joes" and the "Bad Joes" in comes "Mr. Meanie Pants." I will leave his real name out of this story as I am afraid of a defamation law suit. The next thing I know I find myself outside and Mr. Meanie is counting to ten while he sits on his death device, otherwise known as a three-wheeler. Those 10 seconds seem to slow life down for me, kind of like when you are about to get in a car wreck and everything goes in slow motion. I realized what was about to happen and it all played itself out very slowly in my little fragile mind. After I wet myself and realized that Mr. Mean had a toilet plunger in one hand and steel end lawn darts in the other and was on about 8 or 9 in the counting process I acknowledged that I had better get to running or this was not going to end well for me. My only safe haven was the tree house father built amidst the poison oak. I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me. Down the hill, stumbling and falling head over foot. Trying desperately to reach my hideout even though I knew I would be covered from head to toe in that leprosy like disease known as poison oak. He was right on my heels laughing like the devil and throwing lawn darts as I dodged and moved like you've never seen a white boy do before. He came after me with what he thought of as his jousting stick- the feces stained toilet plunger. I have to admit that I did take a few of those to the head. I would like to say that I dodged all of those projectiles as well, but whitey is only so fast. I made it to the tree house and locked the door behind me, and there I stayed for the next 8 hours, cold, scared and petrified that Mr. Mean would get the chain saw out next and cut down the tree and burn it. THE END.



I couldn't find a picture of just Dave and Stacey, but here is Dave's lovely family and is great and "loving" older brothers. They're a great family, I love them.