There Was A Time

when the sight of a bent hair pin would fill me with dread. This was The Brother's weapon of choice. The short end would be pulled back. Touched to a target the end would spring with the swiftness and pain of a bee sting. The infamous story associated with the hair pin came when The Brother was in eighth grade, and I was not the unfortunate victim.

Sister rang the hand held school bell signalling to the  students to line up by class to enter the building. Boys in one line and girls in another.

Sister stood in front of the eighth grade boys waiting for all the students to come to order. She was a very pretty, young woman. Such a shame her beauty had to be hidden behind a wimple and a long black habit. Sister What A Waste. All of the eighth grade boys had a crush on her.

The Brother was the sixth boy in line Waiting became tedious.The Brother loaded the hair pin and pressed it to the ample backside of the boy in front of him. The fellow yelped and leaped forward. The boys in line went down like dominoes. The force of the tumbling boys caused the first boy to jump on Sister knocking them both over.

The Brother was sent to Mother Superior for a suitable punishment. I don't remember the punishment that was meted out, but The Brother was told he had to bring a note from Dad explaining why The Brother "was so bold."

The following morning as the students filed pass Mother Superior's office, she caught a glimpse of The Brother.

"Mr. T," her voice thundered. "Where is the note from your father?"

"He's on his way in."