The Adventure of the Great Big Four-Wheeler
Yup, true story.
The Adventure of the Great Big Four-Wheeler!!!
Gather around pirates and scallywags (guess which movie has been on my mind). Gather around for a tale of adventure and insight, or at least a few damn laughs.
I have returned from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, the state that’s only civilization is the Hershey Chocolate Factory. I, however, was in the decidedly uncivilized part of it-Punxsutawney, where groundhogs are worshipped as part of some cult. I can say one thing for this primeval place…FOUR-WHEELERS!!! But onto that in a second.
First, I must explain WHY I was so hard up for an adventure. My step-grandmother’s house is pretty boring. The only AC unit is downstairs. The house is full of junk. And girlies, I now know why a person who talks incessantly (aka, moi) can be annoying as hell. Case in point, my grandmother. She’s always telling the most random boring stories about people I’ve never met in my life. I’m trying to watch a movie and she talks all through it. But I am too polite to shush her. So I was bored stiff. At the same time, the next door neighbor (next door being pretty far down the road) had his two granddaughters over, along with their mother, and the father was coming up in a couple of days. My sister and I saw the opportunity to have some fun.
The two girls were a little younger than I am.. Luckily both of them were pretty mature, the older one especially, so I didn’t feel too old to be playing with them. My sister and I go over, and they suggest going around on their four-wheelers. Both of them were very skilled four-wheeler riders. Naturally, I leap at the chance.
I hopped on one and holy crap! Those things kick so much ass! They go up to 60 mph and can handle any terrain, and are pretty easy to drive. My sister rode behind the older girl, and I rode my own. So the four of us start off, all wearing helmets of course, and warned by the girls’ mother to be careful. Pah, who listens to that? Actually, we did, though probably not as carefully as she wanted to.
First we visited some kittens, which were very cute. Then we went for more of a real ride. We went tearing across fields at 30 mph, having a total blast. It was the closest thing I’d come in a long time to horseback riding. I was adjusting my balance, using some old muscles, letting the wind hit my face. It was excellent.
Then we went through a wooded trail, which involved scrambling over a lumpy creek. Now, to digress for a moment. The younger girl, who was riding behind me, went “Whoa!” when I went over the hill thing in the middle of the creek. When I asked her about it, she said that I practically did a wheelie. I wooonder about that now. Anyway.
We finally start heading in the rough direction of home. This involved going along a very slightly slanted path that was on the side of a field. We weren’t going very fast; somewhere between 15 and 20 mph. Suddenly, I feel my four-wheeler starting to feel mighty strange, and the next thing I know, it’s flipped over and started rolling down the slant, with me still on it. Oh bugger.
Now, this is probably a remnant from my horseback days. I’ve fallen off plenty of horses, and over time got the ability to sort of ‘listen in’ on my instinct process. I knew in the split second the thing was flipping that I could try to bail, but I’d probably get caught by the side of it as it continued to roll. So I clung on, but shoved myself to the side so that I wouldn’t be totally crushed. There was only so much I could do though. So as it rolled a bit down the slant, it finally came to a stop. I clearly remember the pressure of it temporarily against my helmet, and distinctly remember thinking, “What the fuck?.” Yup, that puppy came to a stop, all 800 pounds of it. On me.
Of course, I being myself had shoved myself to the side, so I wasn’t fully under it. I slid out from it. Again, years of equestrian gave me the knee-jerk reaction that the instant I hit the ground, I leap to my feet. So I sprang to my feet and tore off my helmet just as the younger girl stopped and leapt off her four-wheeler and flagged The older girl down.
At the time, the only part of me that hurt was the right upper side of my face, along with my nose. However, it was the numbing kind of hurt. You know, the type that you know is going to hurt like hell soon enough. But I didn’t think I was too badly banged up. The moment the younger girl turns to me however, she starts shrieking and waving her arms, screaming “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Obviously the younger girl is a spaz.
When people spaz around me, I tend to get calm and assume control of the situation. I replied quickly, “It’s alright, I’m not hurt! I’m not hurt.”
She started shaking her head and babbling “Your face! Your face!”
Cue me thinking, “Oh fuck, did I split my face open and sever all the nerve endings therefore rendering me incapable of pain?”
I also wondered if I’d smashed my face in and that was why I wasn’t feeling it-I was in shock. Of course, me being me, wondered how I’d explain it to my parents. However, The Uber Freaked Out girl shook her head and scrabbled at her nose. I touched my own and suddenly realized that my schnoze was pouring out blood. Not a little bit either. Not the common little rivulets you get from watching video tapes created by psychotic zombie girls that died in wells, or from sitting in the nosebleed section. Blood was literally pouring out of my nose. The small bit I’d spoken had led to blood filling my mouth. I was spitting out several mouthfuls of the red stuff. (Had the situation been less strained, I would have thought it was kind of badass, but as the situation was, I was preoccupied.)
I start wiping at it with my hands, using my shirt. Then I realize I’m getting my shirt messed up, so I switch to leaves. Yup, those green things that hang off trees. They make great tissues.
By this time, the older girl and my sister were beside me. My sister began spazzing alongside the younger girl. That damn brat. I’m ashamed to call her my sister sometimes. She has the constitution of a shoofly. The older girl, thankfully, matched me on level headedness at the moment. Once she was sure I just had to stop my gushing nose, she turned to much more practical concerns. Namely, the damn four-wheeler. It was flipped on it’s side. What kept it from going farther down the hill were tree branches from some type of old evergreen. However, they also kept us from easily tipping it back. But then…oh Lord. The younger girl uttered the one sentence that turned my blood to 7Up. (Didn’t think I’d say water, did you?)
“Oh my God, that four-wheeler isn’t ours! We borrowed it from our uncle.”
Oh snap.
The older girl checked it quickly to see if she could spot any damage. All that really appeared wrong was that the metal plate in the front had a tiny dent. That’s not telling if it could still run though. This really shook the older girl. She was sure her parents would slaughter her. My sister and the younger girl were both continuing to spaz.
Seeing no other alternative, I assumed my older-than-thou persona. Strange how it differs from person to person.
Myself to the younger girl: “Come on now, we just need it flipped. There doesn’t appear to be much wrong with it. You did nothing wrong, your parents will know that.”
Myself to my sister: “Shut up you little squawking brat!”
It worked on both equally well.
The older girl by this point looked ready to flip herself. We needed to call her mother via walkie-talkie. Of course, I immediately sprang into scheming mode. No doubt the parents would go crazy we told the exaaact truth. So, instead of me and the four-wheeler rolling down a small hill together, the event soon became me feeling the four-wheeler starting to flip, bailing, hitting the ground a bit shaken but fine, as the four-wheeler rolled…once. That way, it was a bit softened.
Silly younger girl grabs the walkie-talkie and begins screaming, “MOMMY!!!” I grabbed it from her before she could press ‘Talk’ and gave it to the older girl. She was still a bit calmer and informed the mother. The girls’ mother did freak out, but calmed a bit when I told her I was absolutely fine. She was still in mother-freak-out-mode though, along with being furious with The older girl that apparently we weren’t supposed to be out on trails, me being a new rider. I had not known this before. *Wary look at the older girl*
While we waited for the girls’ mother and their grandfather to get there, I concerned myself with a very important task-getting all the blood off my face. There was a damn lot of it, though only my nose was bleeding. Luckily I managed to stop the blood flow and got the blood off. My sister was no help of course, more concerned by the gathering rain clouds than anything else.
The girls’ mother and the grandfather arrived, and when the girls’ mother saw me, she calmed down immensely. She couldn’t tell how bruised part of my face was (I was pretty certain it was badly bruised).
The four-wheeler got flipped back, and by some sort of miracle, worked perfectly fine. So we rode back to the girls’ house, and I looked in a mirror. I had a cut on my eyelid but it wasn’t severe. I knew (and felt) that my face was badly bruised though. The swelling simply hadn’t started. In the bathroom, I got a moment of assessing and reflection.
My leg and hip started to hurt. They had bruises, but not too bad. I’m pretty sure it was either from the ground or from the handle-bars. My face…I’d like to say the scratch was from a tree limb, and the bruising from being smacked by 800 POUNDS OF FUCKING FOUR-WHEELER. I had the sneaking feeling my nose was broken. It hurt like hell and when I pushed it, I heard the cartilage popping all over the place and it seemed far more agonizingly pliable. Luckily, it wasn’t a bad break…aka, my nose wasn’t crooked. So I ran some fingers down to give it one last straightening, and vowed not to touch it. From remembering a medical book I’d read, I was also fairly sure I had a minor concussion. Being stupid and wanting to hide as much of my injuries as possible though, I simply vowed to get some ice, Advil, and not go to sleep any time soon.
More unsettling however, was thinking back. I remember falls well. I had been wearing a helmet. Normally I only consider helmets necessary for jumping on horseback, but this time, I was grateful to have had it. For a second, that four-wheeler was pressing against me. The way I was situated, I could have easily snapped my neck had I not had the helmet. To think I was a hair’s-breadth from Uwe Kro-er, I mean Death.
Luckily, The girls’ mother only told my parents on the phone that I had ‘battle scars.’ On the way home, I decided upon a plan of attack for keeping my fat out of the fire. To ensure they bought the bailing-out story, I told them that I got smacked in the face by a tree limb. After a shower and several minutes of icing my face, my mother grins and goes “ok, what really happened?” I was pretty sure that would happen. If she’d bought the tree-limb story, well, fine and dandy, but I suspected she wouldn’t. So by saying “oh all right, here’s what really happened,” she fully believed me on the second telling. The second telling was pretty much what we told the girls' mother, except I changed "flipped" to "skidded." She shan’t ever know I went rolling down a hill entwined with 800 pounds of metal. It was made more difficult by my sister hitting me and whispering, “You aren’t telling the truth!” Damn that child. Luckily my mom didn’t notice.
As a result of a lot of ice, I didn’t get a black eye. My face remained (and still remains) tender and painful at a lot of touching, but there is very little visible bruising. The cut’s healing well too. The next day though…shit, I hurt! My arms were sore, my back was sore, my leg/hip was sore, and I had a bit of a nagging headache. Oh well. Physical pain doesn’t bother me too much (at least that kind); I just get lazier. I really hope this isn’t one of those incidents that leads to the “oh, after that my back was never the same” that you hear from older people. I was sitting in the car kind of curled up and felt it hurting. Hopefully it’s temporarily. Gods, did I feel old then!
A few days later, I went to visit the girls. I encountered the worst part of our little adventure. The older girl’s father was furious and had banned her from riding, more because of going out on the trails than anything. (None of the parents knew that we were going along wooded trails, or else the older girl might not be alive). However, a little while later the older girl’s father called back and apologized for freaking out. While he was still a little angry, she wasn’t in trouble anymore and could ride again. My own parents said I could still ride the four-wheelers, though I had to stay fairly close to the house. I wanted to ride them again, but I didn’t get a chance to.
Lastly, along the lines of aftermath, my brat of a sister. That exploitive harpy. We were arguing while sitting on the couch. That brat…she suddenly gets really mad and KICKS ME IN THE FOREHEAD. Right where my forehead was the sorest and most tender. FUCK! I said before, I’m much more resilient to physical pain, but dear God, that HURT! I wasn’t crying at all, but I guess because of the location of it, tears were building in my eyes. Then my mother made it worse by taking my head and rubbing the painful area…which made it hurt worse. Luckily, she yelled at my sister, and some of my agony magically receded. Later that day however...oh dear. I was taking a nap when I my sister randomly walked up and smacked me. I start yelling at her and she attacked me with her little fists of 9-yearl old brattiness. Then she has the audacity to demand I let her borrow “her book.” The book in question was actually my newest issue of the manga Angel Sanctuary.
(Yes, that is indeed the ‘incest ridden comic book’ as a friend of mine calls it. Bah, it’s no more incest-ridden than 'A Song of Ice and Fire,' the NYT best-selling series by George R. R. Martin. But this particular issue was concerned with the plotting of the angels up in Heaven and the manipulation of one of the weaker kingdoms of Gehenna by the rest of Hell, and Kurai dealing with the Mad Hatter to get Setsuna’s body revived, and pretty much everything but Setsuna and Sara.) But I digress.
Anyway, I say “Hell no!” and shove in underneath me. My sister…that devil incarnate…that brat…that bat out of hell…she reached forward, seized my nose, pinched it HARD and twisted it. I was now certain that it had been broken, because suddenly I heard all this snapping and popping. I screeched. The pain from the forehead was a whole different, lesser breed from this. That was it. I smacked her good a few times and she scampered off.
But then she tossed behind her, “You’re so stupid, you can’t even ride a four-wheeler without it flipping over.”
I let out a cold laugh I’ve gotten rather good at, and replied “Hell, at least I can ride one at all. All you seem to do is cling to that girl for dear life.”
She glared and left. Her anguish over not getting to get on the four-wheelers again abated some of the burning searing agony that was my nose. I straightened it again, earning more pops, but luckily, no one has yanked on it anymore.
Thus ends my tale.
The Adventure of the Great Big Four-Wheeler!!!
Gather around pirates and scallywags (guess which movie has been on my mind). Gather around for a tale of adventure and insight, or at least a few damn laughs.
I have returned from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, the state that’s only civilization is the Hershey Chocolate Factory. I, however, was in the decidedly uncivilized part of it-Punxsutawney, where groundhogs are worshipped as part of some cult. I can say one thing for this primeval place…FOUR-WHEELERS!!! But onto that in a second.
First, I must explain WHY I was so hard up for an adventure. My step-grandmother’s house is pretty boring. The only AC unit is downstairs. The house is full of junk. And girlies, I now know why a person who talks incessantly (aka, moi) can be annoying as hell. Case in point, my grandmother. She’s always telling the most random boring stories about people I’ve never met in my life. I’m trying to watch a movie and she talks all through it. But I am too polite to shush her. So I was bored stiff. At the same time, the next door neighbor (next door being pretty far down the road) had his two granddaughters over, along with their mother, and the father was coming up in a couple of days. My sister and I saw the opportunity to have some fun.
The two girls were a little younger than I am.. Luckily both of them were pretty mature, the older one especially, so I didn’t feel too old to be playing with them. My sister and I go over, and they suggest going around on their four-wheelers. Both of them were very skilled four-wheeler riders. Naturally, I leap at the chance.
I hopped on one and holy crap! Those things kick so much ass! They go up to 60 mph and can handle any terrain, and are pretty easy to drive. My sister rode behind the older girl, and I rode my own. So the four of us start off, all wearing helmets of course, and warned by the girls’ mother to be careful. Pah, who listens to that? Actually, we did, though probably not as carefully as she wanted to.
First we visited some kittens, which were very cute. Then we went for more of a real ride. We went tearing across fields at 30 mph, having a total blast. It was the closest thing I’d come in a long time to horseback riding. I was adjusting my balance, using some old muscles, letting the wind hit my face. It was excellent.
Then we went through a wooded trail, which involved scrambling over a lumpy creek. Now, to digress for a moment. The younger girl, who was riding behind me, went “Whoa!” when I went over the hill thing in the middle of the creek. When I asked her about it, she said that I practically did a wheelie. I wooonder about that now. Anyway.
We finally start heading in the rough direction of home. This involved going along a very slightly slanted path that was on the side of a field. We weren’t going very fast; somewhere between 15 and 20 mph. Suddenly, I feel my four-wheeler starting to feel mighty strange, and the next thing I know, it’s flipped over and started rolling down the slant, with me still on it. Oh bugger.
Now, this is probably a remnant from my horseback days. I’ve fallen off plenty of horses, and over time got the ability to sort of ‘listen in’ on my instinct process. I knew in the split second the thing was flipping that I could try to bail, but I’d probably get caught by the side of it as it continued to roll. So I clung on, but shoved myself to the side so that I wouldn’t be totally crushed. There was only so much I could do though. So as it rolled a bit down the slant, it finally came to a stop. I clearly remember the pressure of it temporarily against my helmet, and distinctly remember thinking, “What the fuck?.” Yup, that puppy came to a stop, all 800 pounds of it. On me.
Of course, I being myself had shoved myself to the side, so I wasn’t fully under it. I slid out from it. Again, years of equestrian gave me the knee-jerk reaction that the instant I hit the ground, I leap to my feet. So I sprang to my feet and tore off my helmet just as the younger girl stopped and leapt off her four-wheeler and flagged The older girl down.
At the time, the only part of me that hurt was the right upper side of my face, along with my nose. However, it was the numbing kind of hurt. You know, the type that you know is going to hurt like hell soon enough. But I didn’t think I was too badly banged up. The moment the younger girl turns to me however, she starts shrieking and waving her arms, screaming “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Obviously the younger girl is a spaz.
When people spaz around me, I tend to get calm and assume control of the situation. I replied quickly, “It’s alright, I’m not hurt! I’m not hurt.”
She started shaking her head and babbling “Your face! Your face!”
Cue me thinking, “Oh fuck, did I split my face open and sever all the nerve endings therefore rendering me incapable of pain?”
I also wondered if I’d smashed my face in and that was why I wasn’t feeling it-I was in shock. Of course, me being me, wondered how I’d explain it to my parents. However, The Uber Freaked Out girl shook her head and scrabbled at her nose. I touched my own and suddenly realized that my schnoze was pouring out blood. Not a little bit either. Not the common little rivulets you get from watching video tapes created by psychotic zombie girls that died in wells, or from sitting in the nosebleed section. Blood was literally pouring out of my nose. The small bit I’d spoken had led to blood filling my mouth. I was spitting out several mouthfuls of the red stuff. (Had the situation been less strained, I would have thought it was kind of badass, but as the situation was, I was preoccupied.)
I start wiping at it with my hands, using my shirt. Then I realize I’m getting my shirt messed up, so I switch to leaves. Yup, those green things that hang off trees. They make great tissues.
By this time, the older girl and my sister were beside me. My sister began spazzing alongside the younger girl. That damn brat. I’m ashamed to call her my sister sometimes. She has the constitution of a shoofly. The older girl, thankfully, matched me on level headedness at the moment. Once she was sure I just had to stop my gushing nose, she turned to much more practical concerns. Namely, the damn four-wheeler. It was flipped on it’s side. What kept it from going farther down the hill were tree branches from some type of old evergreen. However, they also kept us from easily tipping it back. But then…oh Lord. The younger girl uttered the one sentence that turned my blood to 7Up. (Didn’t think I’d say water, did you?)
“Oh my God, that four-wheeler isn’t ours! We borrowed it from our uncle.”
Oh snap.
The older girl checked it quickly to see if she could spot any damage. All that really appeared wrong was that the metal plate in the front had a tiny dent. That’s not telling if it could still run though. This really shook the older girl. She was sure her parents would slaughter her. My sister and the younger girl were both continuing to spaz.
Seeing no other alternative, I assumed my older-than-thou persona. Strange how it differs from person to person.
Myself to the younger girl: “Come on now, we just need it flipped. There doesn’t appear to be much wrong with it. You did nothing wrong, your parents will know that.”
Myself to my sister: “Shut up you little squawking brat!”
It worked on both equally well.
The older girl by this point looked ready to flip herself. We needed to call her mother via walkie-talkie. Of course, I immediately sprang into scheming mode. No doubt the parents would go crazy we told the exaaact truth. So, instead of me and the four-wheeler rolling down a small hill together, the event soon became me feeling the four-wheeler starting to flip, bailing, hitting the ground a bit shaken but fine, as the four-wheeler rolled…once. That way, it was a bit softened.
Silly younger girl grabs the walkie-talkie and begins screaming, “MOMMY!!!” I grabbed it from her before she could press ‘Talk’ and gave it to the older girl. She was still a bit calmer and informed the mother. The girls’ mother did freak out, but calmed a bit when I told her I was absolutely fine. She was still in mother-freak-out-mode though, along with being furious with The older girl that apparently we weren’t supposed to be out on trails, me being a new rider. I had not known this before. *Wary look at the older girl*
While we waited for the girls’ mother and their grandfather to get there, I concerned myself with a very important task-getting all the blood off my face. There was a damn lot of it, though only my nose was bleeding. Luckily I managed to stop the blood flow and got the blood off. My sister was no help of course, more concerned by the gathering rain clouds than anything else.
The girls’ mother and the grandfather arrived, and when the girls’ mother saw me, she calmed down immensely. She couldn’t tell how bruised part of my face was (I was pretty certain it was badly bruised).
The four-wheeler got flipped back, and by some sort of miracle, worked perfectly fine. So we rode back to the girls’ house, and I looked in a mirror. I had a cut on my eyelid but it wasn’t severe. I knew (and felt) that my face was badly bruised though. The swelling simply hadn’t started. In the bathroom, I got a moment of assessing and reflection.
My leg and hip started to hurt. They had bruises, but not too bad. I’m pretty sure it was either from the ground or from the handle-bars. My face…I’d like to say the scratch was from a tree limb, and the bruising from being smacked by 800 POUNDS OF FUCKING FOUR-WHEELER. I had the sneaking feeling my nose was broken. It hurt like hell and when I pushed it, I heard the cartilage popping all over the place and it seemed far more agonizingly pliable. Luckily, it wasn’t a bad break…aka, my nose wasn’t crooked. So I ran some fingers down to give it one last straightening, and vowed not to touch it. From remembering a medical book I’d read, I was also fairly sure I had a minor concussion. Being stupid and wanting to hide as much of my injuries as possible though, I simply vowed to get some ice, Advil, and not go to sleep any time soon.
More unsettling however, was thinking back. I remember falls well. I had been wearing a helmet. Normally I only consider helmets necessary for jumping on horseback, but this time, I was grateful to have had it. For a second, that four-wheeler was pressing against me. The way I was situated, I could have easily snapped my neck had I not had the helmet. To think I was a hair’s-breadth from Uwe Kro-er, I mean Death.
Luckily, The girls’ mother only told my parents on the phone that I had ‘battle scars.’ On the way home, I decided upon a plan of attack for keeping my fat out of the fire. To ensure they bought the bailing-out story, I told them that I got smacked in the face by a tree limb. After a shower and several minutes of icing my face, my mother grins and goes “ok, what really happened?” I was pretty sure that would happen. If she’d bought the tree-limb story, well, fine and dandy, but I suspected she wouldn’t. So by saying “oh all right, here’s what really happened,” she fully believed me on the second telling. The second telling was pretty much what we told the girls' mother, except I changed "flipped" to "skidded." She shan’t ever know I went rolling down a hill entwined with 800 pounds of metal. It was made more difficult by my sister hitting me and whispering, “You aren’t telling the truth!” Damn that child. Luckily my mom didn’t notice.
As a result of a lot of ice, I didn’t get a black eye. My face remained (and still remains) tender and painful at a lot of touching, but there is very little visible bruising. The cut’s healing well too. The next day though…shit, I hurt! My arms were sore, my back was sore, my leg/hip was sore, and I had a bit of a nagging headache. Oh well. Physical pain doesn’t bother me too much (at least that kind); I just get lazier. I really hope this isn’t one of those incidents that leads to the “oh, after that my back was never the same” that you hear from older people. I was sitting in the car kind of curled up and felt it hurting. Hopefully it’s temporarily. Gods, did I feel old then!
A few days later, I went to visit the girls. I encountered the worst part of our little adventure. The older girl’s father was furious and had banned her from riding, more because of going out on the trails than anything. (None of the parents knew that we were going along wooded trails, or else the older girl might not be alive). However, a little while later the older girl’s father called back and apologized for freaking out. While he was still a little angry, she wasn’t in trouble anymore and could ride again. My own parents said I could still ride the four-wheelers, though I had to stay fairly close to the house. I wanted to ride them again, but I didn’t get a chance to.
Lastly, along the lines of aftermath, my brat of a sister. That exploitive harpy. We were arguing while sitting on the couch. That brat…she suddenly gets really mad and KICKS ME IN THE FOREHEAD. Right where my forehead was the sorest and most tender. FUCK! I said before, I’m much more resilient to physical pain, but dear God, that HURT! I wasn’t crying at all, but I guess because of the location of it, tears were building in my eyes. Then my mother made it worse by taking my head and rubbing the painful area…which made it hurt worse. Luckily, she yelled at my sister, and some of my agony magically receded. Later that day however...oh dear. I was taking a nap when I my sister randomly walked up and smacked me. I start yelling at her and she attacked me with her little fists of 9-yearl old brattiness. Then she has the audacity to demand I let her borrow “her book.” The book in question was actually my newest issue of the manga Angel Sanctuary.
(Yes, that is indeed the ‘incest ridden comic book’ as a friend of mine calls it. Bah, it’s no more incest-ridden than 'A Song of Ice and Fire,' the NYT best-selling series by George R. R. Martin. But this particular issue was concerned with the plotting of the angels up in Heaven and the manipulation of one of the weaker kingdoms of Gehenna by the rest of Hell, and Kurai dealing with the Mad Hatter to get Setsuna’s body revived, and pretty much everything but Setsuna and Sara.) But I digress.
Anyway, I say “Hell no!” and shove in underneath me. My sister…that devil incarnate…that brat…that bat out of hell…she reached forward, seized my nose, pinched it HARD and twisted it. I was now certain that it had been broken, because suddenly I heard all this snapping and popping. I screeched. The pain from the forehead was a whole different, lesser breed from this. That was it. I smacked her good a few times and she scampered off.
But then she tossed behind her, “You’re so stupid, you can’t even ride a four-wheeler without it flipping over.”
I let out a cold laugh I’ve gotten rather good at, and replied “Hell, at least I can ride one at all. All you seem to do is cling to that girl for dear life.”
She glared and left. Her anguish over not getting to get on the four-wheelers again abated some of the burning searing agony that was my nose. I straightened it again, earning more pops, but luckily, no one has yanked on it anymore.
Thus ends my tale.