Dropping The Box And The Ball

This happens right before Christmas.

Sister: “Why don’t you get the tree out?”

Me: “It’s heavy. You’ll have to help me.”

Sister: “Okay, but hurry up. I have things to do.”

We go take the big, heavy box out and carry it upstairs. I’m pushing and she’s pulling, and she gets a phone call and DROPS the box. It is too heavy for me.

Me: “Help!”

Sister: “Oh, you’re strong; just keep on!”

The box falls down, and I fall, too, on my bare knees. The stairs are wooden and I writhe around, moaning.

Sister: “Oh, poor baby!”

She rubbed my knee once and walked away, talking on the phone with her boyfriend. She didn’t get why I was so mad, and after that, she declared all Christmas trees evil.