My sister Fang

There was a huge age difference between my sister and I growing up. I was older by her by 7 years and we had nothing in common except for the fact that she liked to follow me everywhere, copy everything I did and tell on me when the moment was right.... which was often. Don't get me wrong, there is no ill will towards Fang. She was just being a kid and kids love to tell their mothers what they saw and did that day. Out of the mouths of Fangs.

Why do I call her Fang. From about the age of 5 she started to develop these lovely pearly white incisors that hung a little bit over her lip. She had a bit of an overbit that was later corrected with expensive dentistry to create the most beautiful smile but at the time in my impatience with her and the need to label she was simply Fang. I knew she hated it and it was delicious.

Fang is scarred for life because of me.

I didn't do it on purpose - honest. She holds it over me to this day.

In our basement that was still relatively unfinished we had a lumpy bumpy old couch that was awesome to bounce on. I had my pal over one day who was the best tree climber I had ever met - and probably still is but Mato was raring to bounce. She had seen me in action and wanted to try something out she had seen on a trampoline by her older brothers.

I got on the one end and started to give a few good bounces. The couch was giving a lovely creaky noise that just added to our amusement (we were kids, we had not yet been introduced ot Porkys or the like of that thought process). Mato counted down the bounces and then hopped on herself opposite to my bounce. We really had the couch rocking then. Each bounce the other gave seemed to give the other one more lift. At the most inopportune moment Fang comes rushing into the room with her creepy doll Susie and sees us bouncing. Her eyes glittered with consipiracy and without a warning she was up in the middle of the couch and just like that back down on the unfinished cement floor on her head.

Mato and I stopped immediately. We were scared! Fang was letting out the most horrid of screams, the type that curl your toes. Come to think of it she could give Jamie Lee Curtis a run for her money.

My mother rushed in and saw the two of us looking as guilty as hell and Fang on the floor holding her now bleeding forehead while continuing to scream. Well the simplest of solutions happened very quickly after that.

I got sent to my room.
Mato got sent home.
Fang was whisked away to the hospital to come back a few hours later with a new ugly creepy doll, a popsicle and 4 stitches on her forehead.
The couch was pulled out to the curb much to my dismay, and it was gone on garbage day.

Fang knows how to ruin a good time - at least in the past she did. I'm still a little bitter that Mom wouldn't listen to reason about the couch. No questions asked - I was guilty by visual evidence alone. I wished Columbo (who I don't think was around in TV land yet) would come around and investigate to vindicate me and the couch. Fang came to her own forehead demise by her own actions.

On a cool aside its neat about the human head. Today Fang's scar is still on her head but it has somehow travelled to the back of her skull. Fang is kinda witchy.

Fang continued to mess up my cool childhood adventures like the time she got that stupid Cabbage Patch Doll... but that will have to wait for another time