punkwalrus (punkwalrus) wrote,
punkwalrus
punkwalrus

Punkie's Earlier Years: "WJOK Junk: Side 1" - More Adventures in Babysitting

Now I hear more details of Babysitting the [names omitted] kids. Wow. No wonder I blocked a lot of it out. I knew the oldest kid was psycho, but I had forgotten just HOW psycho. In one summary, I describe how he "saw the devil," and explained his "proof." "I saw him outside, he came up from behind a rock, and there was all this FIRE and BRIMSTONE..." I tried to refute him (?) with an attack of credulity by stating, "He couldn't have come up from fire, or else the world would catch fire, and then Heaven would come get him." The eldest thought for a moment and said, "Well, there wasn't any FIRE!" I said he told me there was, and he didn't. Sadly, I didn't have the skills to stop arguing with a child of 8, because even if you win, he won't admit it... so I ranted for a while about what a liar he was.

I also tell the tales of the actual beatings the eldest would inflict on his younger brother, like beating him into the door frame, and when his brother was on the floor, screaming, he grabbed a soccer ball and SPIKED it right in his brother's face. I can still picture this kid, his wild eyes flashing from a freckled face, inflicting cruel blows on his younger brother with murderous glee. Then at some point, the eldest got ahold of matches, and tried to set things on fire, including his brother's hair, as I recall. I had a devil of a time trying to get the matches from this kid. I didn't know where he got them from. He apparently got pissed I did this, because he threw screwdrivers and hammers at me, and then locked himself into the bathroom, trying to destroy everything in there. During this, the younger said he "wanted to be DRAGGED to bed," not ushered or carried, so he just fell limp on the floor. When I did get him to bed, he kept trying to get out of his bedroom, so I used some reverse psychology, saying, "Man, I hope he opens that door! I hope he gets out of bed!" I can't believe that worked. I never did say how the older kid left the bathroom.

I also go into some detail about the parents. The mother asked, "Were they any trouble at all?" and I told them what they did (but not about the matches, because apparently I made a deal with the kids if they stayed in bed, I wouldn't tell their parents about the matches... what an idiot...), and every time she'd say, "Oh yeah... sorry about that... yeah, he does hate his brother... we've been working on those issues." The father, OTOH, was some massive, brutish broad-shouldered man, who handed me a $5 tip and asked, "Is this enough?" I went into this rant of "I don't know, what they hell did he mean by that??" He was BRIBING YOU, PUNKIE! Jesus... I was so thick headed sometimes. And now.

I don't know how I stood it. I just really needed to money for school supplies and stuff. I exclaimed that, "I wish I could bash their heads in, like cavemen did in cartoons." I recall having to sit on one while holding onto the other with my arms. As I said many times in the tape, "MAN, those kids are BRATS!" Later, the eldest would stab me with a boning knife. Heh. The ended that hell job.

And pretty much babysitting as I knew it.


This entry was originally posted at http://www.punkwalrus.com/blog/archives/00000623.html
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