How Kicking Me Hurts You

So, welcome to memory day on Timothy Types TMI. Today’s memory spans a few years.

It starts in my garage. This memory is about Kimmy, my ‘little sister’ (for those interested, Kim and I have known each other for about 20 years now and have been ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ because of the amount of time we’ve hung out with one another).

Kim, her younger sister Kirsten, and myself, spent many a summer hanging out in my garage playing board games, card games, fake games, and even creating games. Well, during one of these summers, when I was about 10 or 11 (making Kim around 8 or 9) we were hanging out in my garage. I said something (yeah, like I never talk) that was in jest, but Kim didn’t like it. I was probably mocking her in some way (cause I never do that either). Well, in response, Kim kicked me in my shin. Kim’s foot hurt so bad afterward, she hobbled around and we had a good laugh.

So, let’s jump a few years later. Kim and I went to VHS for two years together. During one of these years, the memory of Kim kicking me and getting hurt for it came up. (Oh, and over the years in between, I had brought up this painful act of hers many times.) Well, again, I was mocking her again (I really ought to stop doing that, well, now I don’t mock her, except with this story). So, to prove that she was a lot stronger than this story made her sound, she kicked me. Guess she underestimated how freakishly strong my shins were since she was again in a small amount of pain and I was perfectly all right, like the window that has a bird fly into it. Poor Kim. I hope her feet are fine now, but she’s vowed never to kick me again (ok, probably not, and probably the next time she’ll kick me, but this story always makes me smile).

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One Response

  1. It would probably help if Kimmy wore shoes…other than flip flops. 😀

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