UPRISING

Thanksgiving was about two weeks ago and the winter holidays are approaching. This time of year has made me think a lot about my family, friends, and childhood. It also has made me think about how I recently beat the shit out of a six-year-old girl and while feeling no remorse for my actions. By "six-year-old girl", I mean my older sister Bridget, and by "recently", I mean eighteen years ago.

I had a happy childhood, but I was also a victim of my sister's oppression. At one point, Bridget decided I would make a good slave. But at age four, I was a terrible slave. I was bad at taking direction and criticism, and if you worked me too hard, I would cry and piss myself.

When I was four, my mother emancipated me. She told me that a sister was not like a mother and I didn’t have to listen to her.  But Bridget wasn't willing to give up what she had claimed as her property.

I remember this one instance vividly. My sister and I were in the living room. She said to me, "Alex. Go up stairs and get me my Barbie doll." This was a demand, not a request. And it was given as a demonstration of her authority.
I said, "No Bridget. You're not my mother. I already have a mother."
But Bridget insisted. She kept demanding and I kept refusing.

Bridget eventually knew that she had to switch to more drastic forms of persuasion. She averted eye contact from me for a few seconds. She had a furrowed brow. One could tell that she was thinking hard about what she should do next. I stood about two feet away from her. I was silent and wondering what was going to happen next. What it over? She looked back down at me and we held eye contact for a split second. Then she slapped me across face. Not in the way a pimp hits a hooker. It was more like the cliché way a woman slaps a man in a movie after he JUST PUSHES HER TOO FAR! I think she expected that I would just stand there and be like, “I deserved that,” with a look of wise humility. Then I would have gotten her the doll and apologized. Thats how it happens in the movies.
When you're that young, brawn doesn’t win fights. Rage does. Bridget tried to get away, but as she back-pedaled she tripped over the leg of our coffee table. While she was on her back, I ran over. She was yelling, "Alex! No! Please!" I grabbed both of her ankles as she tried to kick me away. Then I stomped on her vagina. Hard.