A few stories come to mind when I see this picture:
First of all, Marn WISHES I looked like that when I scream, but really, this drawing is a direct interpretation of a photo taken of HER many years ago. She was in our dark basement hallway and Matt jumped out at her from behind a corner. He took a picture of her reaction, and guys- that photo is PRICELESS. Eyes wide with terror, nostrils flared, hands clutching at her throat... literally the picture of pure fright. Maybe not a very flattering picture... to this day, she hides that thing and will not reveal it to anyone. I KNOW she has it. I even asked her to dig it out so I could add it to this post and she claimed it was lost in a box somewhere. No matter. I'll ferret the photo out soon enough, and then the world will finally know what fear looks like.
We belong to a family of panicky people. My mom would arrange for me and my friends to bounce on balloons with our bottoms as a birthday party game. Then she would run and hide and plug her ears because she screamed every time one of the balloons popped. I've heard that memories may be inherited somehow from mother to child in the womb, which might explain the development of strange phobias. Perhaps that's why my most ridiculous but genuine fear is of balloons. I HATE them. Even the simple sound of two balloons rubbing against each other makes my armpits sweaty.
But Marn is the most panicky of all. One time we were playing dress-up with our cousin. It was kind of a joke, because we were way too old to dress-up at that point, so we thought we'd be silly and dare ourselves to walk to the gas station in our funny outfits. While we were licking our gas station treats by the side of the busy road, my teenage sister saw a dark blur on the hem of her dress. Thinking it was a spider, she screamed and ripped the dress off over her head, right there in front of all those cars driving by. It was just pure fight-or-flight taking over.
I'm not sure what surgery my dad was getting this day, but apparently he had some concerns about collateral damage.
If a sister's relationship with her brother isn't abusive in some way, is it a real relationship?
Don't feel sorry for my brother Matt. He threatened me right on back. Plus, he used to say, "Pound my fist and say 'King.'" When I did, he would bonk me as hard as he could on the top of my head and say, "Kong!" Not nice.
We also used to tease each other quite a bit about having STDs. I called him Captain Crab, and he called me Scabie Baby.
Call me if you need me to take you... Our hearts are with you during this difficult time.
When you finally make it to college, you don't imagine your dreaded high school stalkers going with you. Marn illustrated the disappointment perfectly in this hilarious letter:
Love always- Jess
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