I was a rotten kid.

I was a pretty rotten kid growing up. Some would say, c'mon every child has their moments. Well I have 4 moments, let me share them with you and you can be the judge.

The 4 moments all have to do with my temper and giving people stitches. I've had stitches many many times in my life, but all of those were self inflicted. The stitches in this story all come courtesy of yours truly. All 4 stories involve me, a brother, or grandmother, and some kind of tool of destruction.

I'll start at the beginning with my older brother. We lived in Yuma and like most homes in Yuma we had a backyard pool. I remember this pool because it had a short 3foot fence around it to keep the kids out (Like two scheming boys couldn't get over a 3 ft fence). It also had a nice deck on one side and lots of flowers on the other. We used to go out by the pool and use old butter tubs to catch the bees that were buzzing about. We would get the bees in the tubs and then shake them until they were dead, but that's another story. So my older brother and I were swimming one day and he did something to really upset me. I don't remember what it was he said or did. What I do remember is picking up the pad lock that secured the fence and yelling "you better shut up, I've got a good arm". Yes, I actually yelled "I've got a good arm". He didn't stop whatever he was doing and I let the pad lock fly. He ducked but the lock still found it's mark, it hit him right above his eye. He went down even further and the pool started filling with blood, a lot of blood. He came up out of the water holding his eye and bleeding like a stuck pig. After the incident I believe I got sent to my room, a just punishment.

The second story takes place in the same pool and like the last story it includes me throwing something at my older brother. This time it was an old sprinkler head, the kind that attached to the hose and looked like jagged metal butterfly wings and a round thing in the middle with holes in it for the water to come out. My grandparents were in town from Tucson but that didn't deter me from letting the beast come out. My brother was standing on the other side of the pool from me, I picked up the sprinkler head and this time I didn't yell anything, i just whipped the thing at him. Only, it didn't go where I had aimed, it went a little lower and struck my grandmother who was swimming in the pool. It hit her right on top of the head. She went down and the blood came up, it looked just like the last time I saw blood in the pool. I think I got a spanking this time.

The third incident happened at the church ball field in Tucson. This is back when softball was a big deal in the church and it was a family event. The whole family would go to the ball field to watch dear old dad play ball. The kids, me, my brothers, and my friends would always be playing some game of our own while we were there. On one night we were playing with a kickball and it got stuck up in the tree. To try to free the ball from it's leafy prison I picked up a big rock with the intent of using my "good arm" and hitting the ball with the rock. I remember the rock, it was a medium sized river rock about 3lbs and broken on one side. So it had a smooth edge for handling and a sharp edge for who knows what, apparently cutting skin (you like the foreshadowing?). On the very first attempt I barely missed... the ball, but as I watched the rock fall to the other side where my youngest brother was standing I saw that it didn't miss it's other mark. It came down right under his eye. Out of all this the thing I remember the most is his reaction. He didn't cry right away, or scream in pain, but when the rock hit him he just sat down. It looked like he came down with a little thud, like sitting on the ground without bending your knees at all, just falling back. This one was purely accidental, but stitches none the less.

The final story takes place at the rental house in Tucson. The place had a huge back yard where we had a small patch of grass, a trampoline, and some rabbit cages on the side yard from me 4H days. My younger brother, not the youngest, but younger brother and I were out front. he was sitting on my fathers truck (the red Nissan hard body pick up, I remember that we had that truck forever and it seemed like every time I asked my dad how long we had had it he would say "8 years" no matter when I asked him). At this time the antenna had been broken off the truck leaving about one inch of jagged metal sticking out of the hood. My brother said something that pushed my button and I shoved him off the truck. As he was sliding off the truck his leg went over that piece of metal and the antenna remnant scratched a 2 inch gash in the back of his upper leg. He ran inside and then my parents ran him to the hospital for you know what, stitches.

That's the end of the stitches stories, I'm glad there is not more to share. So you be the judge, was I rotten kid or what!