I almost feel sorry for my little brother...
He was used as the test dummy for whatever stupid idea me and my older brother had come up with. A few examples...

We had a cardboard box, which we decided was a car. We placed it between two sofas, designated him the mechanic and told him to get underneath and fix it. I got into the box, the bottom fell off and I landed on him.

We decided to try wrestling, as many young boys did. We came up with a move where, essentially, I would hold my little brother over my shoulder, then my older brother would pull him down, ensure a soft landing and try to make it look good. In a slight mistake, I pushed him over my shoulder slightly too soon, and he landed on his head (fortunately on grass).

When I had just learned to swing from the loft hatch, I decided to show him. I used my feet to knock on his door, started swinging, but it got a bit out of control. When he opened the door, I kicked him in the face.

Our mum told me and my older brother to get him out of bed, when he slept on the top bunk of a bunk bed. He was sleeping on top of his duvet at the foot of the bed for some reason, so we gave it a tug. We pulled a bit hard though, and he fell straight off the bed, falling about 5 feet.

And finally, we were playing rugby once, and he refused to give me the ball to start the game. I promptly picked him up by the waist and swung him round... Right into a tree. That one needed stitches.

We were little bastards.
(whyamihere, Thu 25 Dec 2008, 19:18, Reply)