Waking to a Desperate Sight
I grew up with the nickname "Doodle" and with the
position of middle between two wonderful brothers, Perry and Billy,
although sometimes they did not seem so wonderful at the time. We had
millions of fights wherein more often than not two brothers ganged up on
the third. In retro respect it seems that my older brother, Perry, was
more likely to be the organizer of the gang and less likely to be the
victim, although today he vehemently denies this.
Until we were older Perry and I slept in the same bed, Billy slept in a separate bed in the hallway, and our older sister, Martha Gene, had her own room. The last to wake up was often the center of a plot with extremes limited only by the imagination of the other two brothers.
Possibly the worst of these punishments, which, at one time or another was pulled on all brothers by the other two. This stunt created such a feeling of outrage mixed with complete helplessness and despair that returns even today just prior to making me laugh out loud. My thoughts return to those of a six-year-old boy being awakened by Billy's voice.
"Doodle!, Wake up!"
Lying flat on my back, my eyes open to a sight, which for just a moment while my brain is becoming conscious, is confusing before becoming absolutely dismaying. In that one instant that lasts about a millisecond, I realize that I have just become this morning's victim. Perry's bare-ass cheeks loom just six inches above my face. On the occasions where the timing and logistics was successful, before I could move a muscle, and just as my brain begins shouting "DANGER" to the rest of my sleep-paralyzed body, I hear the sound of a roaring fart, followed by the thunderous roar of laughter of the two evil ones.
The subsequent fight, which no one every doubted would follow, could be stopped only by threats of a homicidal, belt-wielding father. Although I would not have known it at the time, Daddy was probably more amused by the stunt than the two brothers who pulled it.