Kicking and Screaming

Home life at our house was always an adventure.  Having lots of siblings with different hobbies and interests caused many interesting discussions, arguments, teasing and even, once in a while, physical combat.

I was always one who chose to use words rather than get physical. I was “blessed” with a quick wit and exercised it often. I liked to tease and joke about just about everything. Mostly it was good humor and seldom was it mean spirited or hurtful. I perfected sarcasm and that was the one skill that my mom probably hated the most.

I recall one Christmas that I received a new boom box with dual cassette and AM/FM/Short Wave radio. It was one of my favorite presents ever. It was a shiny silver color and had all the bells and whistles including a bass booster, hi-speed dubbing and an external built-in microphone. I had a great time making mix tapes with recordings off the radio. Better yet was recording all my favorite songs from the cassette albums we had. Sometimes I would just record what was going on around the house using the built-in microphone.

One day I was being particularly obnoxious and sparking pointless arguments between my mom and my siblings. During the spats I had the recorder set and caught all the dirt on tape. Every so often I would chime in to keep the conversation going. When I did this the recorder would sometimes make a high pitched squeal like when a microphone is picking up some electronic interference. My mom would yell at me to turn it off and I would look at her and innocently ask “What?” She would start fuming and threatening me with punishments I knew she wouldn't follow through with so I just kept it up.

Years later I found that tape and though it was funny listening to the arguments I felt pretty bad for being a pill to my mom.

One argument that took place one morning was between my sister, Michele, and my brother, Michael. Michael was a terror to Michele so this morning wasn't too out of the ordinary. As usual the argument was pretty petty with Michael just trying to get under Michele’s skin. He was so successful that they eventually were both screaming things that were flat out mean. One comment from Michele was so piercing to Michael’s psyche that he closed his fist and punched her right in one of her breasts. The punch was hard and Michele was in pain.

Michael looked at her and had his fists up like he was in the boxing ring. Michele glared at him with cold eyes that were fighting back tears. Then without any warning she kicked her foot out like the strike from a rattlesnake. Her kick connected with Michael’s groin squarely and with force. Michael’s eyes got big and then slightly rolled back into his head. He grabbed his crotch and hit the floor hard writhing in agony.

Michele stood over him like Muhammad Ali stood above Sonny Liston, but with one hand clutching her breast. Michael didn't see her though. He couldn't even open his eyes. He just laid there in the fetal position crying.

After a few moments Michael was really wailing. Mom came upstairs and asked what was going on. We explained the situation and eventually arrived at Michele’s retaliation kick. Through it all, Michael remained in the same position crying hard. He said he couldn't move and when mom tried to help him get up he cried out in greater pain.

Mom decided she better take him to the hospital to make sure the injury wasn't serious. I helped get Michael to the car which I could tell was not pleasant for him. I've seen Michael hurt before from some of our “smear the queer” competitions but I had never seen him like this.

Mom left me in charge and quickly drove away. I went back in the house and made lunch for the kids. The next hour was uneventful as most of us were keeping to ourselves and silently thinking about Michael and hoping he was okay. Finally the phone rang and I answered it. It was my mom. She said that Michael was going into surgery for an appendicitis that was about to burst. She told me it had nothing to do with the kick from Michele other than it triggered the pain.

After we hung up everyone was asking me what Michael’s status was. I couldn't resist the opportunity to have a little fun with the situation. I told them that Michael was going into surgery because Michele’s kick had caused internal bleeding. I poured it on thick. Maybe too thick. I added that Michael might never be able to have children now. Michele was horrified and the rest of the family was very concerned.

The rest of the day was very solemn. Everyone was keeping to themselves and their thoughts. I heard prayers uttered and some crying off and on.


I made dinner and as we sat down to eat we heard mom come into the house. Everyone ran to her asking eagerly about Michael’s condition. Michele was hugging mom and saying how sorry she was over and over.

Mom told everyone that Michael was okay and he was resting at the hospital. She said the surgery went very well and that they were able to successfully remove the appendix before it burst. At that moment I received a glare from Michele that I had only seen once before in my life. The moment before she violently and effectively kicked Michael earlier that day. I instinctively protected my groin area with my hands and I smiled at her but tried to not stoke a fire that was obviously burning within her.

Needless to say the whole family was a little upset with me. I still think it was pretty funny but I do understand their point of view.

Over dinner mom told us that the doctor had saved the appendix completely intact in a jar because he had never seen one so large that had not exploded. At the end of the day I realized that Michael should thank Michele for her decision to kick him. If it hadn't triggered the pain, his appendix may have burst and thus causing a much more serious situation.

Moral of the story? As your mother always told you, don’t punch your sister in the boob.