How it came to be i got shot
When i was about 9 years old my brother and i went out to play one monday night late in the summer holidays. My brother must have been eleven. There is a park behind my mum and dads place but back in 1979 it was the school fields. They were pretty big with two football pitches a cricket pitch and loads of trees and rough ground. Top quality playground. We met an older lad of about 15 who lived at the end of our road. He had his air rifle with him, a .22 sometrhing or other. My brother asked if he could have a go with it and the kid let him. ~My brother shot a tree, reloaded and immediately took a sight on me. Initially i ran. But then., realising that i probably couldn't outrun a bullet i turned and charged him with the intention of punching his teeth out of his arsehole. The redmist descended. At about ten paces he fired and i felt a punch in the stomach. I looked down and saw a tiny hole in my green hoody top. I lifted it up and saw that i had another hole in my brown terry tee shirt. I lifted that up to reveal a perfectly circular hole in my stomach about three inches from my navel. A trickle of dark red blood was beading down my stomach into my underpants. I was scared. I stumbled home in a daze clutching my tee shirt to my chest watching my pants and trousers get stickier with blood.
Between the shooting and getting home we cooked up some story about being shot by some stranger so that my brother would not get in trouble. When we got home i got done off my mum and dad cos they were supposed to be having a night out and didn't fancy the night in the hospital. Naturally enough the police were called and a huge search went on. IT was in the papers and everything. Afer three days i admitted that we made it up, and from then on i was kindly picked out by the parents of other kids at school as a liar. Little kids would come up to me with newspaper cuttings their mothers had kept and say, "my mum says you're a liar".
And of course. They were right weren't they?
My brother hated me cos i grassed him up. God! he really hated me.
Between the shooting and getting home we cooked up some story about being shot by some stranger so that my brother would not get in trouble. When we got home i got done off my mum and dad cos they were supposed to be having a night out and didn't fancy the night in the hospital. Naturally enough the police were called and a huge search went on. IT was in the papers and everything. Afer three days i admitted that we made it up, and from then on i was kindly picked out by the parents of other kids at school as a liar. Little kids would come up to me with newspaper cuttings their mothers had kept and say, "my mum says you're a liar".
And of course. They were right weren't they?
My brother hated me cos i grassed him up. God! he really hated me.
posted by Doktor Skum at 2:58 AM
7 Comments:
Well, they were right but how many nine year olds have never told a lie?
Very few, I suspect.
Doktor, I know it was a serious incident but the line 'realising I couldn't outrun a bullet' is priceless.
Thank you for that.
Thanks1 I was pleased with that one!
Sories are only worth telling if they are funny.
The version that appeared in the Daily Mirror was very funny. The hacks even made up the story somewhat to make it sound like i was a boy wonder who had tried to stop some youth from shooting sparrows. We just said some kid took a pot shot at us for no good reason.
Which was actually true I suppose, i just didn't tell them that it was my brother as what did it.
I still cringe when i think about it.
Does your brother still hate you?
After i got bigger than him and the fights became mutually destructive, things cooled off. Now it is cool.
d
d
Post a Comment
<< Home