A Guitar And Gear Support Forum

This was mentioned in another thread, and I thought it was a good idea, so I'll get things started and see where it goes...

When I was a kid, I wanted to torture my younger sister in a more thoughtful and clever way. I wanted to find a way to torture my sister in a way that would be difficult for my parents to punish me for.

My strategy was to call my sister a "name"... but not a bad name... a relatively good name.... delivered in a tone that would crush her soul (because that's my duty as older brother under the laws of nature).

So, I started calling her a Homeowner. That's right... a person who owns a house. Homeowner.

It worked magnificently, and though she tries to be a good sport about it now, I can see that she still doesn't love it.

It got worse when she got a wart on her finger and became Toady Homeowner.

See you in hell, boys.

My 4-year-old daughter calls my 8-year-old son a banana. Drives him nuts. He hates it.

The best I heard was from a friend's mom: they would regularly serve liver for dinner, which my friend hated passionately. Meanwhile, her brother would be talking about how great it tasted, always having seconds.

Later on, the brother was visiting the mom. She said "Just for you, I'll make liver for dinner."

"No thanks mom. I never really liked it."

She looked at him and said "you little bleep." He had been eating liver without liking it for YEARS for the sole purpose of torturing his sister.

That level of commitment is impressive.

I used to order anchovies on pizza in order to protect it from being eaten by my sister or other kids.

Frequently I have cause to reflect on how glad I am to have been an only child.

The first of many: Up until he was about five, my sisters and I used to dump our youngest brother down the second floor laundry chute. We weren't completely evil though, we always made sure there was a pile of dirty clothes or towels at the bottom to break his fall...

I can't remember what this was retaliation for... My brother (4 years older than me) made himself a ham sandwich and sat down to eat while reading his new Sports Illustrated. The article had him captivated, so I snuck a rubber band into his sandwich and my sister and I watched and waited. After a couple bites, the rubber band was sticking half-way out of his mouth, and we were quietly snickering. He hooked it and pulled it in with his tongue, and we couldn't contain it. We were also laughing too hard to tell him why we were laughing. He finished the whole sandwich before we told him there was a rubber band in it. He didn't believe us, but we gave him the nickname "Rubber Band Man" and that stayed with him for a good while.

I once took my sister out into our front yard, and took a rope and "tied" her to a tree. I then went and found some wood from the wood pile, and started to stack it around her, and she started screaming for help. My grandmother came out, yelled at me, and "rescued" my sister.

The kicker: I didn't know how to tie knots, so I just wrapped the rope around her like 20 times. If she had just worked at it a little, it would have fallen off.

The other kicker: a few years ago, my sister owned up that she knew she could get away, and stayed there just to get me in trouble. Apparently, she did this a lot when we were kids :-/

First of many...

My brother and I shared a room. On any given night one of the two of us would utter "Hey, how's you pillow smell?" or "I booged your pillow. 'Night."

Mom was always so proud of her sons' willingness to strip their beds without being told.

We were merciless. What he lacked in originality (my strength) he made up for in tenacity.

I was the youngest of five, thus I was the primary torturee as opposed to a torturer.