Out of nowhere, Tomi Ann literally ran from the scene, crying frenziedly. She disappeared around the banister, down the basement steps, and soon her cries faded from earshot altogether.
The poor woman had just been dragged out of her warm bed to the sound of her hysterical daughter pitching the world’s biggest grown-up tantrum. She was beyond reason. She told me to take my friends and leave. I didn’t say another word and turned to walk away. Before I took my first step, I heard Mom’s door close behind me with a solid thump.
I returned to the theater and we made a dramatic exit. Once outside, I took a moment to process what had happened, and then I began laughing. I knew Tomi Ann. And yes, she could be a royal pain in my not perfect Mormon butt sometimes, but something was wrong with her that night. Something was off. That wasn’t my sister.
The next time I saw her, we hugged as per the usual, and she immediately dove into a sincere and heartfelt apology for her actions the night she took a swing at her little brother. According to her, she was heavily doped on Nyquil when it all went down.
To this day, I love to remind her of it, and we still both laugh.
In truth, I was never angry. It would have been ridiculous to be angry. Sometimes when someone acts dramatically out of the ordinary, there’s a very good bad reason for it. And they should be given a free pass.
We all do such weird and bizarre things sometimes that we normally wouldn’t do. Sometimes we do destructive or vicious things and we cannot, for the lives of us, figure out why we’re doing them even as we’re doing them. Sometimes we all throw the world’s biggest grown-up tantrums and then run away crying into the night.
Yes, we all have our moments.
Tomi Ann was punch drunk. That was her only real crime, and that’s what we will always laugh at together as we reminisce back to that night.
She’s also Mormon. That means she doesn’t drink. But after the Nyquil incident, part of me really wants to find a way to get her completely hammered sometime and see what kind of amazing bar fight she’d start.
If that day ever happens, you better believe that only an idiot with a death wish would get involved in that.
Dan Pearce, from my book: The All-Important, Well-Fed, Giant White Man
Last Chapter: Ratted-Out By My Kid
Next up: The Mexican Kids in the Trash Pile
If you would like to start from the beginning, or catch up on a missed chapter, you’ll find all the chapters I’ve published so far by clicking here.
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