|In about my ninth year our farm was invaded. On my dad's side was this cousin, I'll call him Peter. He was a real jerk. One Friday afternoon Pete, wife Jil and three boys showed up. They visited a short while then popped the question. 'Could our three boys stay here over the weekend? We have a party to attend tonight, wedding tomorrow, blah, blah blah. They'll behave and the fresh country air will do them good. We'll pick them up Sunday afternoon'. 'Sure'.|
Well, that one weekend turned into four in a row. And these three boys were brats. They didn't mind, were loud, mouthy and mean. They chased the chickens, left gates open and tormented Daryl. It seemed only our dog, Whacky, was safe. Mom mentioned it in a vague sort of way, to their mom. Jil said they didn't believe in hitting their kids. They reasoned with them. Give them a ' quiet time ' if they deserve it, and she stressed the word 'deserve'.
One day I went up to the bedroom I shared with Daryl. Hearing strange noises coming from the room, I crept up to the door and burst inside. One was holding Daryl's arms down on his bed. The other two were tickling his bare feet. They taped his mouth shut. Daryl's face was beet red. He was only about five. They were six, seven and eight. I swatted one in the back of his head, bowling him right off the bed. While he was scurrying away I grabbed the other two by their hair and shoved them into the hall. They went downstairs, squalling all the way. Then I tended to Daryl. He was ok, just scared and mad. I told him he should stick by mom, dad, Ike or me when those inbreds were around. He asked what a inbred is.
The big break came shortly after that. On Sunday Pete and Jil would come out, usually in time for dinner. After dinner they would get the brats ready to leave. Then came the weekly begging. 'Oh, could you let us have a couple dozen eggs? You have so many it seems'. 'Sure'. 'Say, that sweetcorn sure was good. Got some you could spare'? 'Yeah'. Dad hated confrontations so he would give in to avoid a family fight. 'Any chance of getting a side of beef later? Need meat over the winter'. Gramps was half owner of the farm. He loved a good fight. 'We got lots of venison. Take all you need'. Jil said, 'OH, we don't eat THAT. WE eat beef'. Gramps exploded, 'WE sell eggs, WE sell beef, WE sell hogs and home can our garden produce. You got a house, a job, a brand new car and three bratty kids no one likes. It ain't like you was poor. Come out here on weekends with your work clothes on. We put up hay a few times each summer. We could use help.Two barns need roofs and all of 'em need paint'. Dad just sat there not saying a word. Mom and granny had an almost smile on their faces. Ike just plain burst out with a loud 'Haw, haw'. And dad's whole side of the family never showed up again nor spoke to us. Except uncle Earl who was gramp's best buddy. Uncle Earl was throwed out of dad's family long ago. Some of dad's family speak to me these days. Barely. I'm not losing sleep over it.
Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-10