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My sister and I were always fighting. She's still got a large chunk of pencil lead embedded in her hand from where I stabbed her once. What's the worst you've done to your siblings?

(, Thu 18 Aug 2005, 12:46)
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Yer Maw
Does making his nose bleed for an hour last week when he would answer every questions "yer maw" count?
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 17:13, Reply)
pre computer fun
i remember me and my best mate stan making our own gliders out of balsa wood, well we didnt have any metal the right weight to get level flight so we added sewing pins to the front poking through the front of the nose tip, it looked like a flying hedgehog

well the inaugarul flight time arrived we threw the glider into the air, it did a couple of back summersaults and stuck in my sisters face.

there was only 17 1.5 inch sewing pins as ballast and to bring the nose down.

funny enough me and stan never did get a job in the aerospace industry.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 17:02, Reply)
On the pull
Okay, stretching the question just slightly here. I could bore you with the stories of punching half of my brother's tooth out, throwing him through a glass coffee table or nearly gouging his eye out with a toy rifle but they're too similar to the other hundreds posted here. Instead I'll tell you about the time I enlisted one of his friends to ruin his holiday and cause maximum mental injury.

Imagine the scene, he's 17 and off on his first holiday (Ibiza IIRC) for a drinking, clubbing and shagging marathon. Me, his poor 15 year old brother, was sick of the constant abuse and bullying at his hands so I asked his best mate at the time to help me get a little revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

On the first night he brings a lovely lady back to the apartment and they're getting hot and heavy. Just as they get to the good part he removes his pants and hears a disgusted 'eeeewwwwww'. Looking down he sees a massive skid mark in his underwear, looking up he sees a lovely lady disappearing into the night laughing at him.

As soon as they'd arrived, my brother had gone in the shower. His best mate, under my instructions, had taken a brown marker pen and drawn skid marks in all of his underpants.

No pulling that holiday then. Revenge is a dish best served brown. And, erm, anally.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 16:18, Reply)
Glbbonsrwild
Thanks for reminding me of a great game. I'd forgotten about the old throwing stones at each other. Hours of fun.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 16:17, Reply)
Repressed memory
When I was three i broke my collar bone, it's the only bone I've ever broken.

I did this by falling off the top of the bunk beds shared by me and my brother, as I was young I had little memory of this.

It was only years later when regaling a friend with the tale that I remembered what happened in almost flashbulb recollection: me and my brother were fighting over the duvet, and he let go.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 16:09, Reply)
Beware baby bouncers
My poor brother. He has no lasting scars, but when he was less than a year old I used to put bags over his head (and leave him), scratched his little baby head till it bled, pushed him downstairs in a baby walker, and dragged him so far backwards in his baby bouncer that when it sprang back it nearly brained him on the door jamb.

Now he's a 23 year old squaddie he's more than capable of looking after himself. I think I just toughened him up.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 16:01, Reply)
Thomas the Tank Engine - the hidden dangers
Not me but my wife - when she was 5 and sister 3, an argument about who got to read a Thomas the Tank Engine book ("Really Useful Engines" for the aficionados out there) resulted in sister twatting wife in the neck with said book.

Wife fell backwards onto bed, completely and genuinely paralysed - unable to move a muscle of her own volition below the neck. Cue hysterical toddler sis fetching parents - parents not disposed to believe wife (they are not the worlds most sympathetic people), until Dad picked her up and tried to stand her on her feet, telling her "not to be silly". Wife crumples to floor and hits head on bed, now bleeding too.

Parents now realise paralysis genuine, bundle wife into car and off to casualty. On learning that paralysis was (thankfully) temporary and feeling gradually returning, decide not to miss visiting the friends they had intended to see that aft, and piss off for a charming coffee or three, leaving still mostly-paralysed daughter on back seat of car for 3 hours!

In retrospect, she's more fucked off with them than with her sister (didnt stop her biting sisters knee hard enough to leave a permanent scar as soon as she'd recovered though).

Can't help but notice that obscenity filters seem to be off at the mo. Cuntcuntcuntfuckcuntshit. Yay for gratuitous childishness. Wank.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 15:41, Reply)
thunk
Me and my brothers had an agreement - I wouldn't cry if I got hurt when playing, so long as I was allowed to take out my pain by trying to beat them up.

Now generally this just got me more frustrated as they stood patiently without even pretending to be hurt whilst I drummed at them. So one time when I had been playing with my eldest brother and was in severe danger of crying after thwacking my head, he suggested I use a big cardboard tube to hit him with. We debated where I could hit him and evenutally agreed on the soles of his feet, but with shoes on (it was one of those thick tubes, bigger than your wrist diameter-wise and about 1/2 inch thick cardboard).

So he lay down and put his feet up in the air and I rather tentatively hit them. No reaction, I try it a little harder, still no result. Right. I summon up all of my 7-year old strength, raise the tube above my head and

THUNK

missed entirely and smashed my brother right in the face.

I threw the tube out of the window and spent the next 3 hours hiding in a cupboard convinced that either a) I'd killed him or b) I hadn't killed him and he was looking for me to get his revenge.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 15:30, Reply)
Baby did a bad bad thing...
I am six years older than my brother. We hated each others guts until he was 12 and became stronger than me (then I had to be nice to the little bastard).
He has among other things carved his name into my door and thrown all my make-up out of the window. I have pushed him down the stairs, pressed a needle straight through his lower lip, burned down his Lego-castle and convinced him that my hair-mousse was whipped cream.
Brother 2- Sara 4. Hehe.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 15:05, Reply)
Sister breaks my ribs but apparantly it's my fault!
My sister and I never get on even to this day but one day she got the better of me. One day we were arguing over some minor things when I leant through the serving hatch from our kitchen into the dining room to smack the annoying little turd. However upon reaching through she hung onto a very skinny me and pulled me clean through onto the floor where she kicked me repeatedly in the ribs with her little shoes on until she broke two of my ribs. What hurts more is mum and dad still didn't have any sympathy even when we got the x-rays back. Apparantly I shouldn't have provoked her! Still I got through uni and she dropped out like a loser! Ha!
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 14:43, Reply)
The Typewriter...
Many years ago when I could still prove a worthy foe for my now 6ft tall, hard-as-nails younger brother, we fought like cat and dog but fortunately we never did each other any serious harm...

The main cause for this was that despite being a kicker and a biter in my younger years, my weapon of choice was the Typewriter. During an argument I would drag my little brother (3 years my junior) onto the floor, sit on him and tap frantically away at his chest (hence the Typewriter), and every time he protested or tried to wriggle free I'd push his face to one side with a "TING!" for the carriage return (what can I say, it was years ago).

The best thing about it was he'd usually end up laughing and serious violence would be averted. If only all the world's troubles could be tackled with a good old fashioned typewriter...
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 14:28, Reply)
fork in ankle
It was Thanksgiving and my brother was running around like a monkey all over the house. He was literally jumping up and down screaming and beating his chest and such. My family thought it was cute and I found it nothing but annoying. He made his way over to where I was sitting and started grabbing at my plate and shoving my turkey stuffing in his mouth. I got upset, because the stuffing is my most favorite part of Thanksgiving, and so I slapped his hand away. He then proceeded to punch me in the head and started to run away before I could beat him back. I looked down and grabbed my fork and chucked it at his foot as he was turning the corner to make an escape out of the dining room. The fork actually hit him in the ankle and stuck there. He was screaming so loud with this fork imbedded in his ankle and I was laughing my ass of and so were my mom and dad. He had a reason to be screaming then.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 13:55, Reply)
Over the years
I have:

- convinced my younger brother he had to go to school during the holidays because he hadn't learned enough in term time (he was about 6)

- repeatedly convinced him that Spiderman / He Man / The Hulk / current cartoon character of choice was hidden at the end of the garden / in the laundry room / anywhere out of sight, so he would toddle off there and then we'd all hide (he never learned)

- convinced him to let me put make up on him and then take photos

- convinced him he was adopted

- convinced him I'd gone blind (when he was skiving school, and therefore although he was genuinely worried about me, he was too afraid to phone my mum as she'd find out)

Oh, and my friend's sister once wrote "COW" on my friend's back in sunblock when they were on holiday. You have to admire the sheer simplicity.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 13:54, Reply)
Evil big brother
Have had a fairly chequered past in the injury department, usually involving my big bruvva.

When 3 years old I decided to stick my finger in the door of the loo whilst my sibling was inside - top of finger comes off..woo (it got stitched back on and works great btw)..yay!

Age 8 - backgarden (the scene of many injuries) playing darts with me holding a small mattress as dart board and my brother throwing darts at me...you know it made sense...dart lands in my leg..50 points...super!

At tender age of 10 watching brother chipping golf balls in local park, got too close and wore a pitching wedge in the eye - nice!

Age 12 Playing rugby 1 on 1 in back garden with brother again - make flying leap for tryline (washing line in this case) brother dives i put out my arm to break fall - breaking arm instead...12 weeks in plaster - I did score tho...Hurrah!

Age 15 Playing pretend fighting in living room with said brother - accidental stiff arm to the face in rushing move - broken nose (had to wear silly bandage thingy on face - everyone laughed...Yes!

Haven't had an accident since - i live 2000 miles from my brother these days!

Apologies for length and i'm told, girth.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 13:45, Reply)
shotgun!
not sure if this qualifies, but here goes...

when i was 10, i went to a mates house. his cuntheaded brother points a metal (toy)shotgun out the window at me an tells me to fuck off. i run the 2 streets to my house and pick up my dads wieraucht .22 air rifle. i get back and shoot him in the stomach. cue him falling on floor screaming an calling me a stupid motherfucker. he then explained that it was only a toy gun, i go an look. then i brick myself.

we were all quite good mates after that, though.

apologies for length, girth, the amount of pleasure e.t.c
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 13:02, Reply)
oops
I ran my brother over once with my car I thought I'd just clip him for a laugh but I was doing 30 and he travelled a 100m on the roof. I stabbed him through the hand on christmas eve. He got a bmx and couldn't ride it for 6 weeks.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 12:58, Reply)
The scars, the termoil..
Looking back i can laugh about it now - there was no laughing at the time. My brother - the saint!
a) put in suitcase and thrown down two flights of stairs.
b) repeatedly used for target practice to his air rifle.
c) also used for target practice for his bow and arrow.
d) he cut all my lovely long blond curly hair off with blunt rusty scissors and tried to make me eat it - wasn't very tasty (boy, mum went mental at that one!)

There are so many more - i am surprised I still speak to him - but he has apologised since.

but to get him back - i kicked him in the goolies - never knew the damage it could do - he never touched me after that! YEA!
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 12:44, Reply)
how was i to know?
I managed to break my brothers finger once by shutting it in a door during an argument and refusing to believe him when he told me. (I say told, but obviously I mean screamed like a little girl.)
How was I to know that 'ow, my finger is stuck' means 'gosh, you know, my finger is trapped between the door and the door frame and is starting to nip a little. maybe if you could stop leaning against said door and release the handle, i could extract my finger and stop the pain' and not 'i am lying in an attempt to get you to open the door so I can hit you'.
Pah.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 12:40, Reply)
trust issues
Years ago my brother and I were playing a game while walking down the street in our local shitty market town where I was covering his eyes and guiding him where to go. It was like one of those trust excercises in group therapy sessions you see on TV, though we didn't know that, just thought it was a lark. If it had been part of a group therapy session, though, I would have certainly been kicked out of rehab cos I guided my brother straight into a large knobbly tree.

His whole face was pretty grazed and his nose was bleeding, I got whacked by my dad, and my brother still has trust issues. Still worth it for the comedy value though.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 12:09, Reply)
the bench game
I have two older brothers and one of the many games we used to play involved one of us lying on a bed on their back with legs bent, up in the air - it was a bit like a vary un-varied play which the one left not doing anything would sit and watch. Next it was the turn of another to walk up, doing a silly walk of course, and muttering along the lines of "hmm, oh I'm so tired, I wish I could sit down... oh look! A bench... I think I'll sit her... It's quite wobbly isn't it?" cue hysterical giggling all round as we all knew what was coming - the one lying down would wait until they thought they could surprise the other and then straighten their legs as fast as they could and launch them into the air across the room.

A fun game, no?

One time we decided to try it with a 'double bench' of both my (older and bigger) brothers. I was a very small child - and only about 4 or 5 at the time...

'oh, I am tired.. I'll sit h.." WOOSH, SPLAT as I shot through the air, across the room and headfirst into the wall.

We still played it afterwards, but we always put a mattress against the wall first..
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 11:34, Reply)
My older brother and I hated each other as kids...
...but I never really came a cropper at his hands even if he did smack me about a few times. The worst beatings came from his mates, who thought they could treat me the same way as he did - indignation at this sent me into a bit of a psycho fit, which resulted in me getting a respectable kicking from at least three of them over the years, whilst my brother looked on - a poor show on my part, I admit, but then I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Still, each one of them stayed out of my face afterwards - I remember them all looking surprised before they regained thier somewhat meager wits and duffed me up - they must've left off on the offchance I was carrying something sharp the next time :)

I won some conflicts though, if not with physical force. I possess considerably more grey matter than my brother and know how to use it, and I remember one occasion when he was in a marker graffiti phase. One night he scrawled "*thatbloke* stiks of shit" on the side of the dresser facing my bed in our room - pillock even spelled my name wrong. So, the next day I bought a marker of my own and corrected his spelling. My mum bollocked the pair of us for defacing the furniture of course, whilst trying not to laugh. She still tells people about it now (I'm 32 now, and my brother is 35).
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 10:21, Reply)
Wall
My brother, 2 year younger than me smashed my head through a partition wall. Unfortunately its was a section had a large cast iron pipe running through it. Cue me unconscious and a large hole in the wall. Had a trip to the hospital for several stitches and the `wait to your father gets home'. As luck would have it he was away on business for 2 weeks! And we fixed the hole. Get on much better now.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 9:41, Reply)
Mouse of Death
Well i was about 4 i think, and i believe my sister had pissed me off for some reason.
So i calmly walked into the garage, got her mouse out of the cage and squeezed the poor blighter to death. Then in my realisation/horror i tried to curl him up into a ball so it looked like he was fast asleep in his bed, minus the breathing, oh and a few turds squeezed/hanging out of his arse. Sorry mate.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 9:07, Reply)
When I was about 3
I was found jumping up and down (feet first) on my prostrate, infant brother's back. I'm now 27 and he's 24 and sometimes I sincerely wish I'd finished the job
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 8:59, Reply)
Um...
I actually lifted my sister via her underwear about two feet off the ground and threw her onto the couch... that's pretty bad innit?
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 6:56, Reply)
Sister assaulted cousin
When we were around ten we played this game where we threw stones at each other. Yes it sounds stupid but it happened, what can i say we are from yorkshire and couldn't afford real toys. Basically the game esculated up until the point where my sister lobbed a brick at my cousins head sucessfully. He got severe concusion and had his head glued up, if that wasn't bad enough we had to make sure he didn't pass out during the night which involved me kicking him if he nodded off.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 5:24, Reply)
Too much pain to mention it all, but
I had two brothers, one two years younger than me
who had to endure more pain and humiliation than any non-saint should have to tolerate. The youngest brother was twelve years younger than me and outside of a few experiments was to young for me to really enjoy tormenting. Perhaps this was why my younger brother taught the little two year old to wake me with a sharp blow to the groin. Once that happens for a few days, everything changes. For years after, I would wake if anyone even touched my door knob.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 5:14, Reply)
ow.
My brother almost broke my nose by slamming a door open in my face. The only thing that prevented my nose from being hit harder was my lip, which took most of the blow and consequently swelled up several times the normal size. My lip was bruised for over a week, and the swelling took several days to completely go away. My nose still isn't the same.
(, Tue 23 Aug 2005, 4:11, Reply)

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