NOTE: There are still other video clips on the other side of this article.

 

My story begins in the glow of a calm summer afternoon.  I am outside, why?  Because I enjoy melting in the New York heat, and feel that dripping gallons of sweat will not only make my grass grow better, but I am sure it is appealing to all the ladies out there – TRUST ME. 

 

My quiet repose was at once shattered by the piercing battle cries that seemed to erupt all around me.  Before my ears could triangulate from where the noise was coming from, the brain kicked in told me, “It’s your boys again”.  Yes I am the proud father of three vivacious (that is a nice way of saying, if I left them alone for longer than 10 minutes they would be stuffing the cat into a makeshift cannon) boys.  I have the older one and his two younger brothers, twins.  Yes they are twins but couldn’t be any more different.  In fact we often comment to them, that they are not really ours, and that they were grand prizes from a back-alley Bingo extravaganza.   Of course in retaliation for me making them feel like “hobos”, they do lot’s of things to make my life agregiously active – like the piercing screams I hear from within my house.  Yes my house; what is supposed to be a temple of solace, a place of  placid emotions, and neverending tranquility - not so. 

 

So as I girded up my loins for the coming maelstrom, I raced into the house to inevitably do battle.  Now, being a swords dealer, and a friend to ex-military personel in of all places a church, who have since bestowed upon my older son among other things a compound bow, and a .22 rifle, it is not outside the realm of possibility that there will most likely be a weapon involved.   Through all of this we have endeavored to maintain a sense of civility and decorum at our home despite the constant proclamations at the table of “Hey watch how loud I can burp”, or “Can I flush the cat down the toilet” (hey give them credit, at least they are asking). 

 

As I near the stairs I can hear the grunts of boys in a struggle.  Now before I describe the next scene, you must understand the temperment and overall context of my sons, and for that matter my daughter.  Oldest daughter (aka – “The Fist” – got that nickname from boys who got too close).  She can pack a punch, but knows when to retreat.  Next in line the oldeast son.  As gentle as the day is long, most of the time, but is one of those kids that would think nothing of taking a bunch of ants, putting them into a jar, and shaking them to see if they fight.  In short, he would tease Ghenkis Kahn on a bad-hair day. The next son – the older twin (by 15 minutes);  he is the quiet, but devious child.  We affectionately refer to hims as “Beezelbub.”    When I was wrestling with my one son once upon a time, he loudly whispered in my sons ear “Punch him in the face, punch him in the face!”.   Yup that’s love.  Twin number two – short stocky, full of fire, a loud voice and if you gave him half a chance would poor milk over barbed wire in the morning for breakfast.  So that is the context of my family.  Now onto battle. 

 

I rounded the corner and looked up the stairs and quickly assessed the situation.  Son 1 and 3 have each other in a headlock and are precariously positioned on the top of the stairs.  Closely behind is son 2 (twin 1), with an enormouse grin on his face and a clear decision to make – back off and let them kill each other, or push them both down the stairs in hopes that loose change will fall out of their pockets.  You must know before you are to offended, that the common refrain in my house if someone says they are “dying” for whatever reasons, hunger, fatigue, botulism, is that the immediate response, like a pack of hungry dingos, is to quickly divy up the booty of the dead familymember  by exlaiming “I get the gameboy!!” ,  “I get his money”, etc.  And so even before the dying can think about taking his or her last breath, they will have been stripped clean of clothes and dignity – kind of reminds you of human piranha.

 

Luckily, no swords are involved – great no trip to the emergency room where I would then have to weigh the situation between patching up a kid and pay the emergency room fee, or claim that I found him like that, and let him hitch-hike home.

 

Now I reach the decision point, use the Army surplus ‘Tear Gas’ I keep handy on my hip, and save myself the headache, or deal with this in a ‘hands-on’ kind of manner.  Because I can’t rake the leaves all by myself next Saturday, they are spared the ‘Tear Gas’, and I quickly move up the stairs.  NOTE: Where did you get the tear gas you say – well remember that real nice church going friend of mine…. 

 

I reach the top and plow into the mangled mess pushing all three away from the edge.  Now, let us take a step back here and remind ourselves what happens when you try to break up a fight between two dogs – yup that’s right, you get your hand bitten off.  Now while I am trying to get a hold of the situation, and the boys, they are not really aware of who just hit them broadside.  Assuming this to be another yet unborn brother they weren’t aware of, they strike back. 

 

After a couple cuts to the chest and jaw, they realize who it is, and that the shadow in the room is the grim reaper coming for them.  It is only then that I notice that son number 3 (twin 2) has been fighting the whole time in his underwear. 

 

To put this in context, my 10 year old son considers himself an exibitionist and loves running around in his underwear.  So this isn’t terribly surprising.  My initial response looking him up and down is “Since when did you become a gladiator.  Are you doing this for money, cause if you are, I want a cut.” 

 

You know what happens next – “He started it”, “No he started”, ad nauseum.  It is at this point that they are all strapped to their beds till their 50 (I’ll slip the the food under the door later), so that I can go back to my zen-like state I was in before this whole mess started.  What a day.  There is no more fighting.  The birds are singing, and the sun is out – “Hey where’s the cat.”?????