I don't remember exactly how we were when it happened. We must have been about 7 years old and 9 years old because it happened while we were living on the West Virginia farm of Tom, my mother's boyfriend at the time. He would also be the father of my brother, Josh, but this story takes place before.
I remember I was sitting on the toilet on the second floor of the main farmhouse. It was a bright warm day in Springfield. I can't recollect anything particularly signifigant about this bathroom break so I guess I'd have to say things were going swimmingly. For whatever reason though, my older Mike felt the need to interact with me while he had me as a captive audience so to speak.
He ran into the bathroom jogging around like he was in the middle of an aerobics routine. At first I didn't pay much mind to him hopping around, but then I quickly realized he wasn't going let that happen.
All these years later I don't remember exactly how it started or what was first said. I do remember exactly how it ended. Mike decided he was gonna poke at me while I defenseless as I was sitting on the toilet. That's how it started.
"You better not touch me!" I said.
"You're not gonna do anything," he said.
That's when I was hit with a stroke of genius. I wasn't defenseless. In fact, I was quite possibly in posession of the greatest defense in the known civilized world: my own crap.
"I'll wipe shit on you,"
"No you won't! You wouldn't dare!"
The paper was already loaded and in my hand, held like a grrenade ready to be tossed into a foxhole.
"I'll do it,"
We both stopped for a second and had an old fashioned stare down like a Sergio Leone western. Then... he called my bluff.
Mike was fast. He moved in to strike. His arm came in to jab me, but this time I was faster. I slapped the toilet paper right on his forearm. Mike retracted his arm as quick as he had put it out there only when he brought it back he had my crap covered toilet paper stuck to it. The look of fear was visible in his eyes as he waved hid arm in the air trying to shake it off. It wasn't coming off, it was stuck on solid. He swung his arm around like someone whose arm was on fire. The paper flapped in the air like a white flame. He ran out of the bathroom screaming still trying to shake off vicious leach. Victory. It's these small victories that a younger brother has to relish against an older brother.
I was still thoroughly enjoying my successful defense strategy when I would find out I wouldn't get away so easy. I was told I had to go see Tom.
Tom was out near one of the barns working on an old tractor out in the sun. I walked up to him and waited to find out what was going to happen next for what I had done. He looked down at me and said, "So... I hear you like to wipe shit on people!"
I didn't say anything.
"Maybe you need to be put to work," I ended up holding a hub cap full of screws and bolts the rest of the day while Tom worked on his tractor. I was punished, but it was totally worth it.
Victory!
