How did you torture your siblings when you were young?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I was listening to this segment on the radio about how mean brothers and sisters were to each other while growing up. There were some funny callers! One girl put redhots up her brother’s nose. One 18 yr old guy put a lifesize Freddy Krueger mannakin in his 8 yr old brother’s room while he was sleeping, and proceeded to flick the lights off and on and laugh maniacally. Another girl put gum on here sister’s pillow, and her mom had to cut her long, curly locks off short.

The only thing I can remember is my older sister (13) teasing my brother (4) and me (5) by telling us we “slumbered” in our sleep. We didn’t know what it meant, and the way she said it made it sound horrible! We went crying to our parents.

Any stories to share?

2

I used to torture my younger brother by singing a stupid song he made up. He would flip out and get violent. I would also call his sports practices rehearsals and refer to NY’s Shea Stadium as “Mets Stadium”. He never thought that was cute or funny.

3

As the eldest of four children of a single mom, it was my responsibility to watch my sister and brothers when Mom worked. We all had chores to do, and since I had been granted supervisory status, I’d get my sibs to do mine. They frequently objected to this perfectly reasonable suggestion. So I’d stage elaborate heart attacks and “die” on them. Filled with remorse, they would of course drop to their knees and try to revive me, wailing and gnashing their teeth and promising that if I’d only live again, they’d do all my chores.

Honestly, they fell for it every time. Dumb kids. It’s amazing to me that after a few episodes like this, they still cared whether I lived or died.

4

I was the baby of the family. The only torture I inflicted on my sibs was being born. I was the object of torture. Once my oldest brothers (11 and 12 years older) started growing facial hair they would rub their whiskery faces on my face and give me whisker burn. The brother closest to me in age (3 years older) really hated me, aside from just outright beating me up, he’s come up with all sorts of ways to torture me. Fortunately, I have blocked most of those from my memory. A popular one though was doing something wrong and then telling my mother that I did it, she always believed him and I got in trouble.

My sister (8years older) never tortured me, she treated me like a doll and would dress me up. The only time she tortured me was when she suggested to my mother that she give me a Twiggy haircut. I wore a scarf and hated them both for weeks.

Actually, now that I think about it, when my sister was in high school she and I shared a room and the mean brother had a room to himself as the oldest brothers had long ago moved out. So we would often do things to torture the brother. We got him to eat dog biscuits by telling him they were a new kind of cookie. Once we helped our mom hold my brother down and strip off his t-shirt and jeans because he’d been wearing the same clothes for about a week and after asking him repeatedly to change his clothes our mother had had enough. I think he was totally shocked that three little women were able to overpower him. At least he changed his clothes more often after that.

5

My sister, who was 9 years older than me, picked on me and beat the crap out of me regularly when I was little. She slammed my fingers in doors, locked me in closets, you name it.

So when I got a little older, I got back at her. I hung a noose over her bedroom doorway, and every so often, I’d sneak in and swipe one of her precious stuffed animals and hang it in the noose. I put up a sign on her door that said, “Today is the day you change your underwear!” And once, when she was bringing a date home (rare for her), I thumbtacked all of her panties to the ceiling.

6

Panties on the ceiling… priceless.

I am the oldest of 4 kids, so torture from me was a regular and expected event.

My favorite was tickle torture, however. There is a threshold within everybody where tickling evolves from something funny into realms of the horrific. I went way, waaaaay beyond this threshold with my siblings.

cackle

7

Tickling was good.

As were pillow fights.

The best was locking them in that dark, spookey cellar.

Problem was, that last one worked pretty well on me, too.

8

As the youngest (or younger, as there were only two of us), I didn’t get to do much torturing. My brother, however, who is five years my senior, made my life a living hell.

The day I learned to walk … he poured baby oil all over the linoleum kitchen floor.

My parents left us alone in the car once … and came back to discover he’d stuck my finger in the cigarette lighter “to see if it was hot.”

He tickled me to that point where fun becomes horrific … and I peed on him. He never tickled me again. :slight_smile:

9

Oh yeah, I forgot about the tickling. The older brothers usually combined tickling with whisker burn. And they would tickle until it hurt. It taught me good bladder control, although peeing on them did usually get them to stop.

10

I am not even sure if I ought to post this stuff. It makes me look like a psychotic kid or something. Here goes anyway.

I am the eldest of three. There is one year and eleven months between myself and the next one, and the same period between him and the youngest. All are boys. We grew up on a dairy farm in New Zealand and were left to our own devices fairly regularly.

For ease of doing this without identification I am going to call them #2 and #3. If I refer to myself it will be as #1.

1). I managed, at age 5 or so, to bury a pickaxe in the head of #2

2). Not content that he was still alive (I kid), sometime thereafter I slung a rope around the crossbar on a set of swings and attempted to hang him

3). Obviously he survived this (although he will not wear a collared shirt or anything restrictive around his neck to this day) because he then got into the action. We used to race motocross. On a very successful basis. We practised jumping the bike. We had a big ramp set up in one of the paddocks. We could adjust the height. We would get #3 to lay down on the ground and jump the bikes over him. Having achieved a jump we would then move him further out. And repeat.

4). #2 and I decided to teach #3 to ride his bicycle. Through the centre of the farm we had a cement race. Like a road, if you will. We took him up on a hill on this race. Put him on his bike. Let him go. Now, at the bottom was a corner. Said corner was bordered by a barbed wire fence. We forgot to instruct him on the finer points of braking or turning. Actually we forgot to instruct him in those arts at all. You can guess the rest.

5). On the farm was an old, upturned, seed hopper. It was shaped like a pyramid with a funnel about 1 1/2 feet high at the top. To give you an idea of the size, the funnel was big enough to climb into. The whole thing was around 12 feet high. One could climb up the sides. #2 and I convinced #3 that this was what was left of the spaceship we arrived on. That we, and our parents, were in fact aliens. that we had replaced his original brothers and parents and were prepared to replace him as well.

You know, I am really surprised that neither of my brothers has come looking for me. Armed. I am also, on reflection, somewhat surprised that we all managed to survive childhood. And our parents never knew a thing!

11

cough I fed my brother barbequed slugs.

I told him that they were vienna sausages. Until he’d eaten a dozen or so (he was a huge fan of vienna sausages). Then I told him they were really barbequed slugs.

He threw up for hours.

12

Amateurs. I was oldest of three. I would sneak into my brother’s room at night, take two books and place them upright against the sides of his head and then place a third balanced on top. On top of that goes the full water glass. I would then sneak back to my room and wait for the scream as it toppled on him. Fo a couple weeks he wondered how he managed to knock these things off his dresser while asleep EVERY NIGHT.

We would play cowboys and indians and I would tie him up to post for the laundry line… and then set the sprinkler on him… and then go inside and watch cartoons.

Once my sister was reaching for something behind her bed and fell head first behind it while my parents were gone. She was stuck upside down and couldn’t get out. Rather than help her I decided to take the opportunity to tickle her mercilously.

When I was 3 and my brother was a baby I took him and set him outside the front door because he was making too much noise and I couldn’t hear my cartoons.

I would always have them go on “secret missions” which involved getting cookies or whatever for me. They loved it, I got the treats, and if they were caught I could always “disavow and knowledge.”

I locked the babysitter, my 2 year old sister and 5 year old brother out of the house for about 2 hours until my parents came home.

During thunderrstorms I convinced my little sister that Tidal Waves were coming for us. In the car during a rain storm I consoled her, “Don’t worry, we’ll probably get crushed long before the car gets washed out to sea, so you probably don’t need to worry about drowning.”
This is just the stuff I can think of off hand. My mom could go on for hours, it is a miracle she didn’t drown me before grew up. Funny thing is that my siblings and I usually got along great, but every once in a while I would have a lot of fun.

13

<looking over the front seat to see if Mom is paying attention>

I never touched my sister. There was always at “LEAST” a molecule of air between me and her!

-Butler <Still not “touching” her!!!>

14

OK, when I started writing that I had everyone beat out. Now it looks like UnwrittenNocturne and Aangelica have me beat out.

15

My sister is 11 years older than me. So when she was a teenager, bringing dates home I was very young and going through my “pretending to be a dog” phase.

She would bring home her boyfriends and I would run around on my hands and knees and bark at them and bite them or lick them. Man, those were good times.

16

I didn’t really tease my brother that much… I just pummelled the stuffing out of him at every opportunity. I also completely hogged the computer all the time. That computer was my parents’ despair because we would fight like cats and dogs over it. Hey, I was the Big Brother and it was part of the Big Brother Job Description to Torment the Little Brother.

He forgave me about two years ago.

17

I tried to feed my little brother chlorine granules… Dad was not amused. But I did get him to eat mud.

18

Remember Creepy Crawlers? There were molds you filled with weird goopy stuff of all kinds of interesting colors, and you’d bake them, and when they were done you’d have little jiggly insects.

Well, when I was 9 and my sister was 6, I convinced her that there was a infestation of horribly deadly glow-in-the-dark blue and white spiders coming up the east coast of the U.S. and that people had started seeing them in Maryland.

Then I made one and put it on her pillow right before she went to bed. Poor kid totally flipped. I got in trouble, but that felt good…I feel bad for tormenting her so much, but she was no angel, and honestly, it was her fault for being born with a personality so opposed to mine. Right? Right?
I made my brother wear a pinafore and be the baby when we played house. He’s 17 now, and still complains.
My dad tells me he and his sister used to take their little brother and, holding him by his hands and feet, swing him over open manholes. That was going a little far…

19

My Dad told me he used to take his baby brother (now a retired astrophysicist for NASA) out to the beach, where he’d made a little sled for him out of an orange crate, for scooting over the dunes.
Except the sled didn’t have any runners, and by “scooting,” he meant “tossing over a 14-foot dune-drop.”
Heh. No wonder my folks decided to let me be an only child…

20

I didn’t torture my brother, I was nice and sweet and wonderful and a piece of sugar pie.

He, however, loved to trip me when he was about two or three (and I five or six), dismembered my dolls and stole my stuffed animals, and always loved it when his friends came over–that way, he could lock me in the bathroom and slip notes under the door with taunting insults while his friends sniggered with chortles.

Bratling. :slight_smile: