The Chrissy Pissy Affair - "YCTTBOOTB"

My father’s nemesis growing up was his sister Christine; she is one year older than my father and they fought like cats and dogs over almost everything you could imagine. They fought over who got to read the cereal box in the morning (what exactly is Riboflavin anyway), they fought over who got the prize out of the cereal, they fought over who changed the channel on the TV, they fought over which radio station they listened to, they fought over whether to make a snow fort or a snowman, they fought over everything that is important in the life of a kid. During the 1960’s and 70’s the cold war between capitalist and communist countries were in full swing – meanwhile, in the Hand House their was a hot war going on and every day there were some of the fiercest battles the world has ever experienced – none more vicious than “The Battle of Kentucky Fried Chicken”.As I said, when my dad and his sister Christine were growing up they fought like cats and dogs; it didn’t matter where or when – they were always yelling, screaming, pinching, scratching, punching, or wrestling with each other. There was one night after a long day of swimming at Camp Venture that their fighting and arguing went way too far. The pantry and refrigerator were both empty because Grandma had a busy week working at Camp Venture and she didn’t have a chance to go shopping at the A&P; because of this, she decided to buy Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner – everyone in the family loved KFC and so this was a BIG treat (back in those days there wasn’t a fast food restaurant on every street corner and so anytime they ate KFC, Burger Chef, or McDonalds it was a day of celebration. Grandma Hand bought the family pack which included chicken for eight, which came in a flimsy little red and white box with a picture of the Colonel on the side, a large container of mashed potatoes, a container of coleslaw, and eight butter milk biscuits – Mmmm Mmmm good! The food was placed in a “to go” large white bag with a big picture of the Colonel on the side, the girl behind the counter handed it to grandma, and they loaded into the car and drove home. On the way home my dad carried the bag of food on his lap and it smelled SOOO good he could hardly wait to sink his teeth into a big juicy piece of chicken. When his mother pulled the Volkswagen into the driveway Aunt Christine and my dad began to argue over who would carry the bag of food into the house; Aunt Christine said, “You got to hold it in the car, it’s my turn to carry it”, my dad said, “I only got to hold it for a little while, I should still be able to carry it in.” Grandma said, “You can both carry it in” and so my dad held one side of the bag and Aunt Christine held the other side of the bag and they walked up the gravel driveway to the front yard, which was 100% dirt because Grandpa Hand just dug up the front yard to plant new grass seed. As they both walked side by side to the front yard they began to argue again but this time they both pulled their side of the bag away from the other and in, what appeared to be slow motion the bag tore apart, the box of chicken flew in the air, the container of mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and biscuits were sent flying and at precisely the same time they all fell to the ground. The box of chicken dropped to the ground and burst open leaving all the chicken lying in the freshly turned up top soil, the container of mashed potatoes was fine for a second until my dad stepped on it and squeezed the potatoes out, it seemed like the coleslaw would be safe until my dad slipped on the mashed potatoes and his bottom landed on the container of coleslaw forcing it out - all over the dirt. The biscuits were the sole survivors of the disaster. When the episode was over (it only lasted about 3 seconds) my dad was lying in the dirt with mashed potatoes on his shoes, coleslaw on his backside and up his back and chicken was strewn across the front yard, and his sister Chris stood there with a small piece of the large white paper bag still in her left hand. Her jaw dropped down to her chest, her eyes popping out of her sockets, because she knew what was going to happen next. Grandma was a little bit upset with her two beautiful little angels – actually she was a little more than a little upset – she wanted to strangle them. She even let out a mommy curse, "What the blazes...!" She didn’t seem to be concerned about the physical well being of my dad – in fact she seemed determined to inflict further bodily harm to his and my Aunt Christine’s bottom. She had a few choice words for the two of them as she dragged them into the house and up the stairs into their rooms. There were a couple of firm swats on their bottoms and – they were told, “There WILL NOT be any dinner for the both of you tonight!” My dad thought to himself, “What? Did she say what I think she said? No dinner? This can’t be! She wouldn’t! She couldn’t! This would be child abuse and my mother would never do this to me (Christine maybe, but not her favorite son). How could my mother even think of doing this to me? I haven’t eaten since 2:00 p.m., I will starve to death!” He then cried, “Mom, I’m starving! Mom, I’m going to starve to death!” This mantra went on for about an hour – in stereo – because at this point my dad and Aunt Chris put aside their past differences and teamed up to appeal to grandma Hand’s compassionate side.Finally, after about an hour, their mom gave in and allowed them to come downstairs to the kitchen table to eat cereal for dinner – they were so thankful for their mother being so kind and generous, “Thank you mom! We will make sure this never happens again! We’ll be good, we promise! We love you!” About ten minutes later, in the kitchen you heard, “You always get the box in font of you when we eat cereal – it’s my turn! No, it’s my turn…!”