Yesterday, we did a throwaway post on the evil that older sisters do. (At left: Dodai and her Mini-Me. By the way, that picture from yesterday? That was me. All us black girls don't look alike, you know!) Anyway, yesterday's post was inspired by a very sad story out of Britain about a 6-year-old girl who shot her 3-year-old sister in the head with an air pellet gun (the girl lived, but the pellet is lodged in her brain), a story that brought up all sorts of guilt and shame over the abuse we'd once heaped on our baby sisters. But the anecdotes shared by you Jezebel commenters? They really cheered us up! In fact, they kept us laughing late well into the night. (An instant message from Jennifer to myself at 11:34pm read simply: "HAHAHHAHAHAHA".) So in honor, we've decided to share some of your best and most badass beat-down stories. After the jump, readers recount tales involving bed-wetting, one-sided pillow fights, and general psychological torture.
I convinced my little sister that the TV remote controlled her as well as the TV. I would hit mute and then pretend I couldn't hear her, no matter how loud she yelled. She lived in fear of the power button.
I used to hide under my sister's bed and make scary wild animal noises until she woke up, started crying and dropped her bottle. I would then hide under my own bed, drink the bottle and tell myself over and over "I'm the baby". Oh, and there was also the time that I knocked over the shopping cart she was in, which led to six stitches in her chin. and that time I told her third grade class that she still wet the bed...hard to believe that she still speaks to me...
I was in charge of waking my sister up in the morning so I'd go in her room, turn on all the lights, open the windows (this is in Minnesota in the dead of winter), steal her blankets and pillow, hit her a few times with the pillow, then leave the room.
I told my sister we were running away. We both packed our bags and tromped down the sidewalk at dusk. I told her to wait there—I'd forgotten something. I then went inside and locked the door behind me. She stood on the front porch crying.
I used to fling my little sister around in the johnny jump up contraption my parents had hanging in the kitchen doorway. One day she lost her temper, and in all of her two-year-old fury told me to (and I quote) "blow it out my ass". My mom said she couldn't yell at my sister because she was laughing so hard.
And, just to put things in perspective, here's a touching tale from Annie Get Your Gun:
What makes it worse, though, is how adoring little sisters are. Mine was ALWAYS trying to think of ways to win my affection. And I was SO ignorant of it. I still have a note that she wrote to me when she gave me a gift "Dear Annie, this is a shirt for you on this day and you will like it very much i hope ok thanks." So sweet, I still get weepy over it.
Us too. Us. Too.