Let me start this off Dwight Scrhute style:
Fact: I have a twin Brother.
Fact: He is a "slight" hemophiliac.
Fact: I am merciless.
OK, now that we have that out of the way I can take you for a trip in the way back machine to tell a little story I like to call "The Big Payback".
Growing up w/ a twin can by most accounts be described as a pleasant experience. Sure you're Mom might make you wear matching clothes far too often for far too long, but you'll always have someone around to keep you entertained.
(future moms heed my warning DO NOT push this practice past kindergarten your twins will loath you for it)
Having him around was an absolute must as before the neighborhood expanded it was only me and him versus my four sisters...or as I like to call them, the Four Horsemen. He was integral to my survival. Of course I'd never let him know this. You see if he ever knew this he might not have put up with the countless hours of abuse I put him through. Let me clarify I was never really malicious intentionaly. It just so happened whenever we would get into any dumb little kid accidents he'd come out of them with countless broken bones or bruises...where as yours truly would be scratch free. For you people out there who need visual aides I was Bruce Willis in "Unbreakable" to his "Mr. Glass".
Mostly all accidents. I swear. Like I said no malicious intent. (Blatant lie? you be the judge) However when we did throw down he would yelp "Don't hit me I'm a hemophiliac, I BRUISE EASILY!!!" Which is just about the last thing you should say if you don’t want to get punched.
I hope that gives you a good idea of the dynamic. I was the alpha dog (I use alpha dog fairly loosely: I was Kevin Arnold to His Paul Phieffer) of the
Back to the scene: While reading "The Miracle Worker" in school our nutzo teacher decided an "eye opening" (pun intended) experience would be to go about our normal daily business at home, blindfolded. God bless Mrs. Brown and her out of the box thinking. I went home and wondered what I should do. Hmm, I loved baseball so I decided I'd take some batting practice with my trusty Batting practice pitcher, Mr. Glass. We headed to the back yard with baseballs and a bat in hand and proceeded to get all Helen Keller on that shit. I instructed him to groove them in and I would blindly hack away. On the very first pitch I smoked a foul ball opposite field. I've always heard that your other senses become enhanced and I believed it at this point because right after that swing I swear to you I could hear my brothers lips curl up into a sinister smile. The next pitch whizzes past my head! I yell back "Hey dickweed, throw em' normal". No response. Without warning the next pitch comes flying in blasting me in the ribs.
Sammy Sosa deserved it! Not me.
It finally hits me...HE's OUT FOR BLOOD! . It's the Big Payback and here I am blind and powerless to stop him. I drop the bat and run for cover. Now any person with half a brain would have removed their blindfold for their panicked escape. Not me. To this day I'm not sure if t was because I was a complete spaz or if I was just so committed to honoring the legacy of Helen Keller, but I left the blind fold on. I managed to jump over the two rain gutters on the lawn flawlessly (in between which my brother drilled me in the back with another baseball) and rounded the corner to the front steps. I was home free. The path to the house has been hardwired to my brain and I knew I was mere feet away from safety and that's when I felt a shove from behind. Totally unexpected (damn you heightened senses how did u not hear that coming) .
Heightned Senses, why have you forsaken me?
I flew head first into the metal railing of our front steps. All I saw was stars before I woke up seconds later with my head throbbing. I took off the blindfold and saw my brother inside smiling like it was Christmas day. He asked why I didn't take the blindfold off and I couldn't give a good answer. I thought about it all the way to the hospital.