Brotherly Attitude Adjustment



When I was a 18, my best friend (next door) was one of five brothers. We lived in a small town in rural southern New Jersey, and these kids were some real, bona-fide rednecks (yup, there are rednecks in NJ).

Now I was best friends with the second oldest brother. The middle boy (named Pat) was a local HS football star, strong as a bull, and with an attitude the size of the county. The only problem was Pat was extremely, deathly, excruciatingly foot-ticklish, and we constantly worked it to our advantage (and his debit!).

The usual "scenario" went something like this:

Pat would be drinking a little beer, and would start to run his mouth (as usual). We'd tell him to shut-up, which of course only made him get MORE mouthy! On cue, the five of us (all four other brothers and myself) would take him down (he was strong as an ox, but so were we). The two older brothers would pin down his upper body, and me and the next youngest would sit on his ankles. Then the youngest boy would find a little twig or stick or some such thing, and chew the end of it into a little wet "brush". Now we'd pull Pat's toes back a little, exposing the really sensitive spot at the base of his toes, and back and forth that little brush would go. When it started twirling in between his big toe and second, that really got him howling! In the meantime we'd be running our fingers along his soles, just for good measure, and his other brothers would be s..l..o..w..l..y trickling a stream of beer over his face, which of course was being sprayed all over the place by his laughing, hollering and spitting! This torture would be carried out sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes straight before he would "break" and start in begging for mercy and such. It was gratifying to say the least! But then we'd step up the torture by tickling him some more and saying things like,

"Now say you can't take anymore...and say it with feeling...", and he'd have to scream, "I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE...C'MON GUYS, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, STOPPPPPP!!! MERCY!!!"

We'd force him to call himself names, tell us what an a**hole he was, etc., until all of us were literally exhausted. Usually this whole ritual degenerated into a massive six way wrestling match, with the loser getting pinned and tickled mercilessly.

To this day I have a theory that Pat actually liked getting tickled, he was such an attention hound! And man, did we let him have it (on MANY occasions!) all through his HS years. We're still friends today, and we still talk and laugh about those "good ol'" days!


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