Tales of Stupidity

#10: Ranidaphobia story 2 AKA "my brother is a dick"

Before my parents were divorced and we all lived together in our first house, everything was amazing. The bedrooms were huge, we had two back gardens -one of which my dad was working on to build a small orchard and a bridge above the big pond- and a big garage where me, my brother and my sister kept our rabbits. Next to that, there was a second garage that my dad used to build things and where we all played around on a karaoke machine.

The first garage, where our three rabbits were kept, was always kind of damp. On the side opposite the rabbit hutches, there was a huge coal bin where it was almost always wet. Because this first garage was next to the garden and we left the door open most of the time, it became a hangout place for frogs behind the coal bin, even if we almost never saw them.

During one summer afternoon when I was probably about five or four years old, my brother, who was about five years older than me, decided to mess around with the coal bin while I was sitting on the kitchen floor being a fucking weirdo - by that, I mean I was marveling over the oven and was staring straight at it without taking my eyes off of it.

Minutes later, my brother came into the kitchen from the door connecting the garage to the kitchen, his hands covered with black, wet coal dust. He told me to follow him because he had discovered something interesting.

Being a gullible little fetus, I followed him. As soon as we got into the garage, my brother, Matt, shut the kitchen door behind me and dragged a white plastic chair to the middle of the room, telling me to sit down and wait. I did as I was told.

I watched as my brother walked over to the coal bin, crouched down, and scooped something up into his coal-dust smeared hands. The moment he turned around, revealing a large, wet frog, I screamed. Then he threw it at me, as if he were letting a bird go free into the sky. As if he wanted the fucker to cling onto my face and terrorize me.

I jumped up onto the chair, the frog missing me and hopping outside quickly. Once it was gone, I bolted back up to the kitchen and told my mum about what happened. She was annoyed with Matt, but didn't yell at him.

So basically, my dickhead of a brother got off easily, and I had one more experience to add to my overwhelming fear of frogs.

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See ya later, my little demons!

-F (admin)