My Lucrative Career as a Graffiti Tagger

I realised that my last post wasn't funny at all, but more of me going off on an intelligible rant with some big words thrown in to make me appear a little intelligent. So I'll tell you one of the stories that all my relatives just LOVE to tell at family get-togethers in order to embarrass me. But it's really not that embarrassing to me. I think it is quite funny myself. Hope you enjoy it.

At the age of 5 I was quite impressionable. Especially when it came to ideas being delivered by my older cousin, who terrified me. I don't really know why she terrified me, to tell you the truth, but I remember having memories of terror when it came to visiting her house. I really don't think she ever did anything wrong to me, but she had a strong personality, and was kinda bossy. I learned that from her.

I digress. When I was 5, my cousin Sarah was over for a visit, and we were outside playing with chalk. Innocently enough, we drew hopscotch things (I realised just now that I don't know the word to describe what it is that you draw on the ground to play that god awful game that I never quite understood) onto the sidewalk up and down the block in front of my house. Now at the ripe ages of 5 and 6, hopscotch and drawing puppies on the sidewalk will only stay amusing for approximately 37 minutes. Give or take. After that, we are left to find something fun to do. Mistake number one right there mom and dad. When Sarah was involved, I would have probably committed murder if she told me to do it.

I should go on a little side note here. I lived next door to my best friend in the world growing up. She and I were closer than sisters. This also led to us having periods where we flat out hated one another. We could go 2 whole days without seeing each other at a time. And I know now as a somewhat adult like person, that 2 days is pretty short... but at the time, 2 days felt like 4 years. To me, at least.

So her and I were mad at each other. For something. Who knows what really. We were 5, I probably wouldn't let her play with my Barbie or something equally as mind blowingly horrible as that. And I was of course complaining to Sarah about it. Even though I felt terror around her, she was also one of my most trusted confidantes, and she also was one of the few friends I had who didn't have allegiances with the other girl. After all, she was my cousin. She was required to side with me in any fight, even if I was wrong. And she always did.

Sarah devised a fool proof plan to get back at Kate for getting mad at me for not sharing (trust me, the humor in this is not lost on me). I had suggested that I should simply write stupid on the sidewalk with an arrow pointing towards her house. Sarah said that was clever, but not good enough. It needed to be bigger. And instead of stupid, we should write the word that had earned her a time out just for repeating it when her dad said it.

So I geared myself up. I got a brand new piece of chalk out of the box, and stood on the foundation of the house to get some height for this puppy. And Sarah told me what to write. F. Easy enough, all straight lines. U. That was the one that was like an "o" that opened up at the end. C. Got it. K. Crap, this was a hard one. I could never make it look like a K; it always looked like a H with the lines bent out. But I mastered that one. It was fate that I write this one out. Now make a space and start the next word. Y. Easy, a V with a tail. O. Just a circle, no biggie. U.

I was in the process of writing that fateful U, when I heard my dad roar. I stood there smiling happily at him. I was so proud that I had written those words and I was gonna get back at Kate. I didn't know what I had wrote, or even that it was that bad. But when I saw the look on dad's face, I knew. I had done something majorly bad. He had this look in his eyes like he might laugh, but at the same time, his angry vein in his neck looked like it might pop at any minute. And when I look back on this day, I can also see foam frothing from his mouth. I know that this foam never existed and dad frothing at the mouth like some rabid dog is somewhat of a leap, even by my standards. Still, he was PISSED. Majorly pissed. Sarah of course ran, hid and got off easily for all of this. Because she didn't write it on the wall, I did. I on the other hand, had written FUCK YOU in letters almost the size of my own body onto the side of our house. By the time it sunk in just how mad he was with me, it was way too late to run, and even if hiding had been an option, I eventually would have had to come home and face the music. I lost everything I loved for a week. Which felt like 30 years at the time. I had no TV, no music, no books, no Barbies, and worst of all... no Mario.

I did learn my lesson though. I have never written on anything that I wasn't supposed to write on ever again. I have never even written stupid things on bathroom stalls. Because I went a week without Mario once, and I am not willing to do it again.

**Note: I really was afraid of Sarah growing up. And I can honestly not for the life of me tell you why. We laugh about it now, but for some reason all of the cousins our age were scared of her, yet none of us can tell you why. It is the strangest thing. We get along awesome now, and I'm glad that we grew up in such close family, because not only do I have a cousin, but I also have a friend.


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