Ah sweet memories

I was trying to come up with a few stories to convince those of you who might think I'm evil incarnate that I'm not so bad after all. You know, sweet reminisces of my childhood ...

Sadly, all I could come up with was the time I called a bigger kid (in Barbados) a bad name and he threw me off a cliff. I had to have been younger than 7 because we moved to the U.S. within days of my 7th birthday.

Funny thing about that cliff, though: when I went back to Barbados, many years later, it was gone and there was/is a big wide beach there now. I asked what happened to the cliff.

My aunt laughed and said it was only a rock ledge with about a 3-foot drop down to a narrow beach.

Even funnier is the fact, which I've only just recalled, that it was the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers who turned that rock ledge and that narrow beach across from my grannie's house into a beautiful wide beach. The intention of the USACOE was to make a deep water harbor - or so I was told. *Ahem*

Anyway, then there was the time I called my (biological) father a bad name (could have been the same one) as he drove by where I was playing with my friends. My parents were separated and instead of actually taking me himself for his allowed visitation, he would drop me off at his mother's house.

He screeched his car to a halt, walked back to where I was, grabbed me and put me under his arm so my head was facing backwards and my butt was convenient for spanking. He spanked me all the way up the road, back to Grannie's house. I recall that I was kicking and screaming the whole time.

And then there was the time, in junior high, when some older girls called me a bad name and I ... oh my god! I am a terrible person.

Son of a bitch.