Me, my brother, and my sis--the stewbie children--have awful tempers. Mine comes out verbally, my brother's comes out physically, and my sister's--well, you just better hope you don't piss her off, because she starts planning her revenge immediately.
Being that we were 4 years apart, my sister and I hated each other until I went to college. Before that, there were very few times that she and I were "buddies." Usually, it was me and Shawn pitted against Shannon, or Shawn and Shannon pitted against me. One time, in particular, it was me and Shannon against Shawn. I don't recall what Shannon and I did, but he was royally pissed at us. So pissed, in fact, that me and Nan locked ourselves in the bathroom to escape his wrath. He threw a shoe at the bathroom door, and busted a hole in it.
All of a sudden, it got REAL quiet.
We fought quite a bit, but once something major happened, we were like the Three Musketeers--with red hair and without the swords and stuff. Immediately, we were all "friends" again, and had to figure out how the hell to fix the door before my parents got home from work. We had about 30 minutes.
We brainstormed, and threw out the solutions that we knew just wouldn't work: toothpaste? No. Elmer's glue? No. Stuff the hole with newspaper then patch it up with Bond-o? No. How 'bout replacing the door? YES!
In our garage, behind the bikes and roller skates and forgotten My Little Pony house, was an extra door. It had come off the pantry that my dad converted into a phone booth--more on that later. The three of us dug that door out, and somehow, managed to carry it up the stairs (split-level) without knocking a hole in the wall. We found dad's tools, got the broken door off the hinges, and put the new door in it's place. It took us about 20 minutes to shove the new door on there--I mean, hell, I was 12 at the oldest--but we did it. We went to close it, and I'll be damned, the door was too big by about 3 inches! It was wider than the standard door! We all just about crapped our pants.
We took off the too-big door, and stuffed it back into the garage. Then, sulked back upstairs, and stared at the holey door sitting against the wall, wondering if we had ample time to run away before the parents got home and killed us. Then, one of us had a bright idea (I like to think it was me): Let's switch the linen closet door with the holey bathroom door!
We got the linen closet door off the hinges, and perched it in the doorframe of the bathroom. Perfect! As we pounded in the last hinge on the bathroom door, we felt the familiar rumble of the garage door under our feet. Our parents were home, and the linen-closet door was still sitting in the hallway--with a big hole in it, might I add. We grabbed it, had to turn it over (the hinges were on the opposite side of this closet), and shoved it into place. Then my mom walked up the stairs.
She didn't even ask why the three of us were hanging out in the bathroom hallway. I mean, we were weird kids, so it probably didn't even cross her mind. She went into the bathroom, and my sister followed her. Shawn and I gave Nan the look that said, "Detain her as long as possible." While mom pee'd, and Shannon spilled the story of her day, Shawn and I pounded that door into place. Lucky for us, because of the reversed hinges, the hole was on the inside of the closet door. I ran to my room, got my most recent "Scholastic" poster (the one of the kitten hanging on the branch with the words, "Hang in there!") and taped it over the hole.
My mom walked out of the bathroom while we were taping up the poster.
"Why are you hanging a poster in the closet?"
"Um...I don't have anywhere to hang it in my room."
No questions. My parents didn't find out about the "bathroom door incident" until the house was sold--approximately 7 years later.
We are so sly.