Member-only story
HOMICIDAL FRIENDSHIPS
My Little Sister Risked Her Life To Be My Friend
and it was worth it
As a youth, I engaged in freestyle rapping sessions with myself. My little sister, Meg, would appear in spite of the raps, just to be with me, and I’d demand that she freestyle too.
I’d drop my beats, issue my orders — “Rap, Meg! NOW!” — and when she refused, I’d rap at her aggressively until she ran from me, crying.
But the next day, or minute, she’d come back for more. Time and again. She wanted to be my friend so much she would even put up with being my friend.
And sometimes, that meant more than misery.
It meant a life-and-death play date.
One day, I wandered in the woods until I found an old, abandoned water tower. I would have wandered forever if I didn’t find something, anything. And the tower was something indeed. This freakish thing was a War Of The Worlds spider monster. Rust covered. Way too tall. As tall as the tree tops, then a hundred feet taller than that. It groaned in the wind, a sound like a sleep apnea Satan having a sex dream.
