Flyting

3/4/09: one of my most fondest flyting memories happened when I was about 17 years old and my little brother was 14. I had walked home from the bus stop after school only to find my brother, Bill standing at the gate with a lighter in one hand and a can of raid spray in the other. Naturally, I asked "what are you doing dumb ass?" To which he replied;" bite me!" Then he said that was going to kill the wasp nest in the railings of the wooden gate and why don't I mind my own fu.....g business. I said; "listen you punk ass litttle pyro freak, you're gonna burn the gate down or scorcth all the fur off of your inbred face!" Bill swung the gate open and raced out into the street calling me bi..h and waving the lighter and aerosol can at me.
Just then a nieghbor came by walking her dog. She really tried to ignore the two of us standing in the street hurling insults back and forth at eachother while my brother was brandishing a home made flame thrower.
We settled down some as she went directly passed, then Bill raced back for the gate yelling back over his shouler that he wasn't going to let me in. As he reached the gate that he had so violently swung open moments before one of the angry inhabitants of the nest he was intent on destroying came out and stung him on the arm. Now, I know it was wrong butIi just howled! With that my brother turned loose a blue streak of insults at me then took the aerosol can, started to spray the gate, held up the lighter in the stream and flicked his bick. Yep, he burned a good portion of the hair off of his hand and the gate went up like a tinder box.
Perfect timing, as the gate was fully engulfed in flames and I was reminding my brother of all his short comings with every insult I could think of my mother's car pulled around the corner heading for home. She seemed surprised to find the front gate in flames. The moment that she had a grasp of the situation she began to hurl insults at my bother which was naturally a bonus for my day.