April 24th, 2008

My long suffering younger brother, Dizzee, father of Wild Child, still speaks to me after all the torture Mr. Trick and I put him through. I’m grateful for this because he is basically kind and quite funny.

We had a period of estrangement in our adult lives that we decided to put aside when The Papa got really really sick. I think we did it for him, although I believe The Papa didn’t care much for Dizzee’s decision to associate with a Tool of Satan.

When we were kids, we lived the military life. No disobedience, no questioning orders. The Papa may have been a corporal at work, but he was the General at home.

When my parents separated, the kids went with The Papa. There were periods of time that we were only supervised by our older sister. This would be the one that made us smoke when she babysat us so we wouldn’t tell on her for smoking. I love her, really, but people? That is messed UP.

So older sister became the queen bee. Dizzee was around nine by the time he really started acting out because he missed his mom. We all did, but I think it hurt him the most.

He would have temper tantrums and Mr. Trick and I would fill a tub full of cold water and throw him in to “cool him off”. We really just wanted to shut him up because he was an annoying little brother. And because it was one thing we could get away with. We totally wanted to smack him, but we weren’t allowed.

He must have marvelled at what great parents we would be someday.

Our fun-loving favourite uncle visited often, and regaled us with what I now realize were inappropriate stories. We figured he could do no wrong.

One of the stories involved a friend passing out drunk, and to punish him, Unk and his other buddies painted the guy’s willy red, so he would have a lovely surprise when he woke up all hungover.

We thought that was the best story ever. We laughed and laughed.

And schemed how we could have that kind of fun without access to alcohol.

We secured a supply of red paint, and the next time Dizzee had a hissyfit while The Papa was at work, we held Dizzee down and painted that puppy red.

I still remember how gobsmacked we were when The Papa was furious with us over this particular stunt.

“But, Dad! We didn’t smack him!”

Oh, the injustice.

Like I said, it’s a wonder Dizzee talks to me at all.

(Dizzee didn’t mind whipping it out when it wasn’t red.)

And? He’s such a good sport, he gave me permission to publish this picture.


This entry was posted on Thursday, April 24th, 2008 at 9:50 am and is filed under Dizzee, down home. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

29 Responses to “Dizzee”

Twins | Psychicgeek Says:

[...] told my younger brother, Dizzie, the one Mr. Trick and I tormented when he was little, and who has since forgiven me, that his [...]

Heidi Says:

Geez, how we kids who were the youngest in our families managed to make it through childhood…

iamthediva Says:

One time my older brother and i threw our younger brother down the stairs in a suitcase.

We were a little “Lord of the Flies” out on the farm.

witchypoo Says:

Diva: I was totally meaning to reference Lord of the Flies, but the flow of the piece just wrote itself without it.

teeni Says:

Isn’t it amazing how we torture our siblings and they don’t totally disown us? LOL. This reminds me of all the evil things I did to my younger sister.

teeni’s last blog post..Earth Day Speech

Memarie Lane Says:

My friend Jeanine and I used to tie up her little brother when we were supposed to be watching him. Apparently he holds us no grudge. I wonder if he has a bondage fetish now?

Memarie Lane’s last blog post..Starbucks!

Talina Says:

Ha! Sounds like fun times with the siblings… My brother and I never tormented each other in that way but there were many shenanigans.. Oh, and we did smack the crap out of each other often.. Maybe that is why I didn’t need to paint his willy red..

Talina’s last blog post..My bulbs are in bloom, April 2008.

Jenny Says:

I’m the younger sibling. I still hold a grudge, just ask my therapist.

Jenny’s last blog post..The Great Cookie Debacle

B'dum B'dum Says:

we used to play wrestling. always engling with me belting some rusty piece of farming equipment across his head to win… except the occasionaly time where i decided i should lose.

i also used to tell him wearing dirty underwear on his head would give him superpowers.

B’dum B’dum’s last blog post..Greeks and Geeks

Marie in Maine Says:

OMG that is funny! I have heard of guys drawing all over their passed out friends with indelible laundry marker, but you Canucks have a lot more fun (and creativity) than we do here, it seems.

Marie in Maine’s last blog post..Pulled Pork

mp Says:

…and that is the kind of thing which makes me happy I was an only child…

And how does one get red pain off of ones willy?

mp’s last blog post..24 hours of fame

Old Knudsen 2 Times award winning commenter Says:

Yep siblings are right bastards, also the youngest I suffered more mental abuse than anything, as I got older I realised I just didn’t like my siblings but now understand their need to put me doon on an everyday basis it wasn’t me it was their issues about me and now I forgive them not that they think there is anything to forgive and only remember what I said to hurt them (in defense but they never remember that) they did hone my sarcastic wit thus allowing me to win the peep twice so I guess God had a reason for it.

Old Knudsen 2 Times award winning commenter’s last blog post..Drunk Vader Pounds The Nerdi Knights

lceel Says:

Gotta love those uncles and their inappropriate stories. I think everyone has one. I know my nieces and nephews do.

lceel’s last blog post..Bardsville on Avon

Angella Says:

Oh, my sister and I FOUGHT. And fought, and fought..

That photo is classic :)

Angella’s last blog post..Buyer Beware

Nicole Says:

My brother and I fought a lot, but he wasn’t far enough younger that I was ever able to torment him too much. (It looks like I’d have had funnier stories if I had.)

Amanda (Shamelessly Sassy) Says:

I love hearing about sibling torture. I’m glad I just grew up with one of my brothers.

Amanda (Shamelessly Sassy)’s last blog post..Koumpounophobia:Fear of Buttons

warriorwoman Says:

life is full of shit,

and so is my brother

warriorwoman’s last blog post..grandma is dead

B'dum B'dum Says:

most my uncles spent a large portion of their childhoods living in an attic that not only had no windows, it also had no proper flooring.
so I just presume most people’s relatives’ll be more… sane

B’dum B’dum’s last blog post..Small-Time Con-Man of Overbloated Tips Gives Some Tips… For Tips

ALF Says:

My little brother didn’t turn out so great and I often wonder if it’s because all the times I tortured him…

ALF’s last blog post..In The Words Of A.A. Milne: “Get Out Of My Chair, Dillhole.”

Kelley Says:

Awesome. I am so doing that to my brother next time he comes home. So what if he is like 10ft tall and build like a brick shithouse, I am thinking magenta would be a better colour though. Something for him to show his Navy buddies…

Kelley’s last blog post..Lovin’ on my peeps

witchypoo Says:

All youngest siblings: I eventually repented my torturing ways. Not before his wedding, though. I will put that story in the comments as Dizzee emailed me the story.
mp: It was poster paint. What else would kids have easy access to? Very washable.
All those who tortured their younger siblings: The youngest probably kicked the dog in retaliation. Something about pecking orders.
Marie in Maine: Any men that passed out would usually get adorned with full women’s makeup, and have their pictures taken. The women usually weren’t stupid enough to pass out around horny, drunken men.
Angella: I’m glad you appreciated the photo. It really is a classic. I was debating whether to Photoshop it so the “stream” would show up better, but nah.
ALF: Dizzie turned out better than I did, if making a boatload of money is an indication.

witchypoo Says:

From Dizzie, via email:I had met my wife to be in a Seven Eleven Store in Calgary, to make a long story short we had some fun and pregnancy resulted. It was decided to do the “right thing” After a night of very heavy drinking.. and my oldest sibbling the one who smoked, sat on me while the others decided it would be appropriate to try the favourite uncles trick one more time. They wrote on it TSFUP in red lipstick…The next morning I wondered how I got all that lipstick on my shorts, and shure enough there he was with smudged letters. When asked what it stood for I was told too small for useful purposes. Then came the time I was heading out to the church to get married. I got dressed in my suit, I still remember it so well, got out in the front seat of my 1972 Plymouth Fury Police Interceptor special, and pumped her a couple times and turned the key. Well I musta done something right because there wa this god-aweful bang and smoke rolled out under the hood and I opened the hood up and the valve covers had both blown clear off. I got rid of the car a short time later.. little did I know the things to come in the marriage.

witchypoo Says:

So, it’s apparent we didn’t stop until after we were grown. I think growing up in that family may have delayed our development. We took pictures that night. And? I have not shown them to anyone.

nan Says:

I feel so sorry for youngest siblings! The anguish! The torment! So glad I am the eldest. So glad my youngest sibling is my tiny sister, and not my giant, towering brother.

nan’s last blog post..Kermit the homicidal killer frog

AssBurgerBoy Says:

Good thing my siblings weren’t as screwed up as mom. Sure one of them smashed a banjo and a guitar, but never painted my dink red. Thanks be to God for small favors.

Hair | Psychicgeek Says:

[...] of the ringlet-making. This would be Dizzee’s first wife the night before their wedding. Nobody looks happy here. [...]

Bucket List Meme Says:

[...] Pay my brother Dizzee the money I owe [...]

Hair of the Dog | Psychicgeek Says:

[...] of the ringlet-making. This would be Dizzee’s first wife the night before their wedding. Nobody looks happy here. [...]