The grievous sin ofattempted accidental fratricide.
Hi there, b3ta. Long time lurker, first-time waster of company time.

When I was six,my little brother and I played cowboys and Indians.
I realise this sounds like he beginning of a penthouse letter written by a paedophile, but these were more innocent times. Having won the game by capturing my brother, I decided to tie him to a bush.
A holly bush, in point of fact, because I was an evil, evil child. Having done this, I retired into the house for a leisurely game of mario, leaving the little gleet there to squirm.
He managed to free himself, of course, but not entirely. He got free of the bush, but with his hands and legs still tied together. He decided, as one does, to hop into the house to dob me in.

Unfortunately, our garden was steeply terraced with a broken concrete path and no guardrail between it and the sheer six-foot drop to ground level. I returned to the scene of the crime with my camera just in time to see him hopping triumphantly to freedom, letting out one shrill scream and toppling sideways in slow motion, over the edge.
He was mercifully un-dead, but he'd chipped his teeth badly. I, being the kind and considerate brother that I am, threatened him into silence before fetching help.
He now lives on a secluded island in the North Sea that is cut off from the mainland 12 hours a day, communicating with the rest of the family only rarely.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

I'm actually seeing the pope when he comes to England, even though I'm not a Catholic. I hope he's got his best absolving trousers on, that's all I can say. The ones with the specially-reinforced, altarboy-repelling gusset.
(universalpsykopath loves what you've done with your hair., Tue 31 Aug 2010, 22:28, Reply)