Sibling stories

Growing up, we had the most annoying neighbor that ever roamed the earth. He resembled Howdy Doody, called his freckles "angel kisses," and told my parents that my brother was smoking pot because he tripped over a stepping stone. Apparently, if you're a 9-year old klutz of a kid, you're also a pot-smoker. He also used to say "good deal!" all the time, as if he coined the phrase. "Hey, you're washing your car! Good deal!" "Look, you got new shoes! Good deal!" "I have a stick up my ass! Good deal!" Anyways, "annoying" doesn't even describe him. Me and the sibs just could NOT stand the guy. He was so bad, that my MOM knew we hated him, and she condoned it.

The three of us used all of our spare time plotting on ways to annoy/embarrass this guy. The thing about being young kids though, is that you're never quite as stealthy as you think you are. Case(s) in point:

1
One evening, before my parents were home from work, my brother and I were doing our chores. I was vacuuming the living room, which was upstairs. The living room had two large windows that looked out onto our driveway, and, if you looked to your left, you could see Mr. Angel-Kisses. It was prime target time. I put my hands through the blinds and rapped on our window. MAK looked up at the window. I rapped again. MAK looked again. We were dying laughing. WHY? Because we were stupid kids. Don't try to tell me you never did anything stupid like that. Anyways, I rapped again, but MAK didn't look. So, I used the heel of my hand, and rapped on the window. Hard. Hard enough, in fact, to put my little hand right through the glass pane of the window. He looked THAT time. In fact, he even ran over to the house for a closer look. And then decided that perhaps, since there was no parental guidance at our house, he should knock on the door and check on us. I answered the door with a towel wrapped around my hand, blood dripping off my wrist. You gotta know this guy knew what we were doing. But you know what I said? When he asked, "What happened?" I said, "I was vacuuming, tripped over the cord, and fell to the window." Not too bright, but not too shabby, either.

2
The three of us had a "secret" club. We used to meet daily during the summer in our "secret" hideout--apparently, living together in rooms which are right across the hall from each other didn't suffice, so we had to meet somewhere else. No one ever found our secret location. It was THAT secret, or perhaps, it was because it was up in the attic, and since we live in Texas, and the summer days are 100 degrees, which means the attic was about 125, no one else was stupid enough to go up there. But hey, you never know. So, every day we'd meet up there, at some predetermined time, and eat lunch. Usually chicken-noodle soup. Because eating HOT chicken-noodle soup while sitting in a 200 degree attic is the smart thing to do. We were such skinny kids, now I know why--we used to sweat it all out. Anyways, while we were up there, we'd walk across the rafters over to the roof vent, and peek on MAK. We'd also go over there to breathe, but that doesn't count in this story. We'd stand by the vent, and yell, "Hey, ASSHOLE!" at the top of our lungs. Of course, MAK would stop what he was doing and look around. As soon as he went back to whatever mundane task he was doing, we'd yell something else, "Hey, SHITHEAD!" MAK would stop, look around, and say, "Shawn? Shannon?" (I was never expected.) Of course, the 3 of us would be giggling like mad. MAK had to know it was us. Take 3 kids, and have them yell simultaneously--think he had a clue who it was?

3
During the summer before my 7th grade year, the neighbors hired me to watch their kids and clean their house. I accepted, thinking it would be a great way to earn some extra money. Now, my mom is a clean freak, so I was well-trained in the area of house-cleaning. OUR house was crappy, but CLEAN. Their house was not crappy, but was dirty. There's a difference. I spent so much time cleaning their house, that their kids did nothing but watch tv all day. Anyways, after MAK got home from work one day, I was about to leave, and he says, "Do you know how to make 'hospital corners'?"
"No."
"Come upstairs, and let me show you."

So, I got my first lesson on how to "properly resheet the bed," as he put it. Now that I read that, it sounds creepy. Anyways, I was royally pissed about the whole thing. The next day, when I was cleaning their room, I found a pair of his underwear lying on the top of their hamper. Get this: There was a huge poop-stain in them. HUGE. POOP STAIN. So, being the little evil bitch that I was, I picked them up with a hairbrush, and draped them over the footrail of the bed. Poop side up. Stealthy? NO. Funny? Oh Yes. He never confronted me about it. I mean, how could he?

That poor, poor man. I hope I never live next door to evil children.

One more thing: we stole one of my mom's maxi-pads, made it all bloody and gross with melted crayons and marker, then stuck it on his license plate.

We were SO inventive!