Bedtime Stories: Broken

Shhh, don’t tell.

Can we fix it?

I don’t think so. We can try.

She will be so mad.

Yeah, I know.

Let’s just hide it.

She’ll notice it’s gone.

But it’s too broke to fix.

We have to tell her

We can’t!

She’ll find out anyway.

Maybe not.

Yes she will.

Please don’t tell.


31 thoughts on “Bedtime Stories: Broken

  1. Im sitting reading your poem and can quite vividly see my sister and I fighting over normally something I have broken and my senseless attempts to fix said item. Which always ended in me attempting to hide below my bed for fear of the yelling match which was to ensue due to my sister running to tell mum. Really enjoyed this.

  2. LOL, oh Lordy, that was one thing we couldn’t do: yell for Mom. She would beat the one who was telling for telling – and the one who ‘broke it’ (or whatever), too! It taught my brother and I the value of cooperation sometimes (normally we were trying to kill one another) – and of keeping secrets and our mouths shut! LOL’ing!!!

      • And sometimes you set them up for trouble, too, LOL! I know I did. I’ll never forget the time I broke my glasses – stomped ’em flat as a feather – right in front of my brother – and you can guess what happened when I brought them in. “He did it!” I yelled, pointing at him. He was pale. aghast, and in shock. Got ’em good. Made up for some of those knife cuts, LOL. Later on we graduated to swords and guns. (wry . . . smile & grimace, both.) It’s a wonder we both came out of teenagehood alive, to be quite honest! And he did shoot me in the back with an arrow one time; I was 16 – a case of “Advanced” cowboys and Indians you might call it, LOL! But I just laughed and pulled it out of my shoulder (my shoulderblade bone stopped it) and we never told our mother. She would’ve killed us! LOL!

          • He’s … hmm. Anal? Uptight? Always worrying and fretting? Won’t have kids cuz’ he’s certain he would kill them (tho’ I don’t think so); on marriage 3 to a Mainland Chinese wife who IS insane / violent – and an engineer (her own country won’t take her back, BTW, which says something about her! LOL.) Works out his rages on a bike riding 50+ miles a day (usually 70).

            So yeah: he’s messed up. But at least he doesn’t pull guns on people anymore for the simplest stuff; hasn’t shot anything lately (he used to shoot his cars quite regularly, LOL). Owns a couple houses and works high level IT for BB&T.

            I would say he’s fractured a little, but he refuses to discuss any of the past with me. Says he has forgotten it and wants it to stay that way. He knows he’s been abused and (I think) has troubling admitting to himself a lot. Hates our dad with a passion but has a devotion to “duty to family” (which has nothing to do with love, BTW).

            He’s a straight-laced guy with a lot of edges and fringes coming out, the packing unsewn, a bit frayed, but due to his Politically Correct biz. & living in Atlanta he’s changed – both for the better and worse.

            We fight a lot still to this day, but only in arguments. We’ve learned to bump heads and walk away ‘okay’ with it.

            So yeah: he’s got personality disorders I guess you’d say. Just covers it real well, workaholic – and then bikes the rest of the day.

              • People cannot believe we are brothers; we don’t look alike. But I have a “part” that is him – down to attitude and accent – really crude sometimes. Even my wife and daughter know when ‘he’ comes out – he’ll say something snide, just ‘wrong’. But like my brother he is at heart kind – just broken in a lot of ways. 😦 My brother very much got beaten much more severely than we did sometimes. His life was hell compared to ours. But not so much the sexual thing; he “didn’t like it” so he didn’t get molested as much. And yes, if you are wondering: those two little boys had sex. 😦 He is a very big ‘homo-hater’ now; states he would like to kill them all. I guess that comes from what happened in those days – and I won’t EVEN get near that subject with a 20 foot pole with him! He can be ‘scary stuff’ sometimes, still. Not that we are scared OF him – just FOR him sometimes on some stuff.

                • Sorry to hear that your brother was so abused too. I have to say that from what you have told me and written on your blog, it is amazing that you are still alive, and I am sure that is true in his case as well.

                  • I could tell you a story about him and a bayonet that went 7 inches through his leg – upper thigh – severing an artery/vein junction. He almost bled out. Of course mom wouldn’t let him in the house – he had to wait while she got keys, towel, pressure bandage – she ALWAYS kept her head, her emotions would just … vanish. But you did not drip blood within her house; that was the rules. The funny thing was that this was after the Vietnam war and bayonet wounds were so rare then that the Army docs at the hospital kept bringing crowds of students into the ward (about 80 G.I.’s – and this teenage kid) to look at his wound. He got over it though – and went on to join the Marines. He did not do good, not later in his career with them. Got out Dishonorable discharge . . . I helped (wry laff.)

                    Yeah; we’ve been told we’re lucky to be alive a long long time. But then again, I remember that very 1st dream I ever ever had. I was a little bitty baby I’m sure, and that Thing telling me “I’ll watch over you . . . experience life – *ALL* you can.” So true.

                    But of course “May you live an interesting life” is also a Chinese curse (grinning broadly).

                    ’til later, Hobbles – you all have fun!

                    • Wow, interesting story Jeff. I think all of yours are. I am glad that you are alive and I feel like you are definitely in my life for a reason. Hopefully not as a part of your Chinese curse. 🙂 Thanks for stopping by Jeff. It is always a pleasure. You boys have a good night.

                    • One thing my brother & I got expert at: patching bullet holes up in walls. LOL! Tho’ his bedroom ceiling dripped rain for awhile – my dad was puzzled when he got up on the roof (that we didn’t know how to repair) – and we convinced him that it must have been a Roman candle ball that landed there, LOL! (I also found a .22 long rifle bullet will penetrate 3-1/2 sheets of 1/2 inch drywall, a plastic castle, and a closet door one time – missed him by two inches off his left ear, lol! “Oops! Finger slipped!” I told him, grinning from ear to ear (and scared to death because I almost got him at the same time . . . what if my mother found out?) . . . there was a bullet ‘bulge’ in the wall (that 1/2) just behind his dresser. Interesting thing to see. Still there probably.

                    • That is a good comment / observation, Hobbles. It worries people. It worries me sometimes – I could shoot myself. But when it comes to other people? We’ve got a *very* strict set of rules we use – tighter than the police (sometimes), and only used in defense or our lives, or someone else’s. That given, I should tell you about Papa Bear sometime . . . and what he did to one of our daughters’ boyfriends. (Lol, and an evil sneer and a smile by our ‘evil one’. He survived, btw. Was a councilman’s son . . . ask me to write it….

                      Until later, Hobbles – and be reassured: we are VERY careful with guns; almost paranoid. But not afraid. And would NEVER use one unless it was to help and/or save somebody. That’s the Rules in us.

                    • Good rules. Write the story Jeff. Stories are only memories until they are told. I think they want more than the confines of one or two minds. 😉

                    • It *is* the perfect daddy’s story, and you’d love it as a daughter. Cuz’ it’s a classic. Expect to see it coming out in a few days, if not earlier. Something about “Pappa Bear” no doubt. Meaning ‘us’ in a guardian position regarding our daughters, LOL. (You did know we had 3 of them, right? 1 biological and 2 ‘mine’ – steps, ya know. Funny how things turn out :/ Family :/

  3. Boy I guess we can probably all identify with that…and my children also…One time they ‘broke’ a door with a hockey stick..stuck a poster over it and we never saw it till we moved…Diane

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