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Thursday, March 24, 2005

Eggcellent Artist Plots Revenge

I promised all of you readers and myself that just because some of my family members now know about this blog and actually read it, I would not be censoring myself. I promised I would share the whole story with you nice folks here no matter what.

So Angie, if you are reading this, either stop now or you'll read all about the grudge that has burned within my belly for two and a half decades, and the wrath I shall bestow upon you, in your very near future. Don't you "What grudge?" me! You know what I'm talking about! Heed my warning, Ang! I'm not kidding!

Angie is one of my sisters. She is the one who was born right before me. That's right, she is a middle child. Not the beloved baby in the family like myself, but a mere middle child, one of many actually. She isn't special like the oldest or youngest, nope, smack dab in the middle with the rest of the less loved ones. I might even feel sorry for her. That is, if she weren't such an evildoer!

She is the one I fought most with growing up. She is the one who beat me up every time our mother's head was turned away. And she always timed it perfectly for Mom to look back when I was in mid-swing. But, thankfully, I am the baby and rarely got in trouble, even when I was caught red-handed.

Anyhow, the time has come to get this grudge out in the open. You see, this Sunday Angie, along with all of the other members of the Lane family, will attend Easter dinner at my house. We Irish Catholics know how to throw out digs just in time for a holiday gathering. Nothing says lovin' quite like two adult sisters beating the crap out of each other with a leg of lamb to settle a 25-year-old grudge.

So young and so misunderstood, I sat on the stoop out front. I was all alone and minding my very own business. In my cute little hands was my Etch-A-Sketch. I was working feverishly on a masterpiece. I maneuvered the little dot to the far left corner, shaking off the line to begin with a clean slate.

Up, right, up, right and so on. I was building the most perfect set of steps the whole world would never get to see. That's right people, Angie shook my Etch-A-Sketch as she accidentally bumped into me as she walked down the step.

"No I didn't! Quit your screaming or Mom is going to come and see what's going on."
"I want Mom to come and see what you did! MOOOOOMMMMM!"

She placed her smelly hand over my mouth and had me in a headlock. I swear she was trying to kill me. She had that look in her beady little eyes. The look that could only say, "Don't make me shove this Etch-A-Sketch down your stupid little throat!"

I tried licking her hand to gross her out so she would let go of me. I tried biting her fat fingers but my spit and steamy breath had made them too slick for me to really sink my teeth into. I stomped her foot with my heel. I kicked her shin with my heel. I tried flipping her over my back and instead wound up with her teeth puncturing the back of my skull. Thankfully it hurt her too and her death-grip loosened.

"Nice going Bucky the Beaver! You made my head bleed and I'm telling Mom!"

Angie held her hand over her mouth (the same hand I had just taken a lick of, haha!) but she never took her eyes off of me. I wanted to whack her in the head with my Etch-A-Sketch and run like the wind, but I didn't want it to break on her stupid rock-hard, empty head, so I held back my anger.

I kept my anger hidden so deep within myself that it wasn't until recently, when I stumbled upon this gallery. This Etch-A-Sketch gallery, that I realized what she had done that tragic day.

Do you people have any idea what this skank did to my future as an Etch-a-artist? Well I am beginning to have a pretty good idea of what my life has missed out on as a result of her negligent bumping into me that fateful day on the stoop. Let me just say right here and now, this Easter dinner is going to be eggciting.

If you also long for the days when you could tend to your own artwork, without some hag messing things up for you, go here and play online.