Andy on the ockey... or maybe not.
Yes, one day when I was ten me and my brother Andy decided to play a hilarious game whereby we stand at one end of the field behind our home (well, okay, mobile home) and throw darts at each other. No, not paper darts, or flea darts (y'know, those grass heads full of black nits that you pull up and chuck at people, especially if they are wearing a woolly jumper), but real bona-fide ONE HUNDRED AND EEIIIIGGGHHTEEEEEEE darts. I think the idea was to dodge the darts, but my younger brother, in his infinite 8 year old wisdom, decided to pretend to be a walking dartboard and strolled head first into the direction of a dart I had thrown at some velocity. It embedded into the side of his head. Oh deep joy... was I in for it now. Of course he went wailing off to Mum. Thankfully on close inspection it turned out to be merely a fleshwound. But I was sent swiftly to bed without any supper. Which wasn't so bad as it was boiled ham, lumpy mash and cold bullet-hard garden peas. Again.

***SIBLING SADISM UPDATE***

Blimey, I spent the past half-hour since posting this darts story reading what others have done to their dear little brothers and sisters and even though I'm only on the 2nd page I've come across 5 or so stories also involving darts. What a sadistic bunch of, er, sadists we are!

Perhaps this QOTW should be renamed to "What's the worst you've done to your siblings, with darts?"

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(martianrobot, Mon 22 Aug 2005, 15:30, Reply)