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Seize A Photo Opportunity

, , , , , , | Related | November 6, 2016

My girlfriend has frequent seizures. We’ve been dating for six months now so I’ve become fairly experienced with dealing with them.

One time, I go with her to her family’s picnic at her grandparents’ house. They have a pool there, and she wants to go swimming. While we are in the pool — the shallow end, fortunately — she has a seizure and falls into the water. She isn’t convulsing and she has fallen face-up, so all I really have to do is support her upper body to make sure that she stays afloat. I know I should get her out of the water, but I’ll have a hard time with it if I have to do it all by myself.

Nearby, a bunch of her relatives are talking, so I try to get their attention. This one guy — I think he is her uncle — notices us, but I guess he just thought we were doing some sort of cute couple pose, with her floating on her back and me holding onto her shoulders like that, so instead of coming to help, he just takes a picture.

Her mother quickly realizes what has actually happened and heroically jumps into the pool, fully-clothed and everything, to help me get her onto dry land, and she comes to a few seconds after that, unharmed.

After her uncle realized what had actually happened, he was really embarrassed and apologized for not being more helpful. I told him it was fine, but I was going to want a copy of that photo!


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Mathematical Uncertainties

, , , | Related | January 21, 2016

Me: “[Cousin]’s Boy Scout troop saw a bear on their camping trip.”

Uncle: “When I was young I saw a bear when I was walking to school in the winter.”

Me: “Back when you walked to school uphill both ways, right?”

Uncle: “Yup! Barefoot, in the snow, uphill both ways, and this bear came charging out of the woods at me. I had to beat him off with my algebra book.”

(My uncle stops to give us all a great big grin.)

Uncle: “You know that story is a lie because I was never smart enough to take algebra!”


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Drink And Be Merry, For Tomorrow We Die

, , , , , | Related | June 9, 2014

(My daughter is hanging out with her aunt in the living room as I finish some up some work in the other room. My daughter is making fake food and drinks.)

Daughter: “Here’s your drink. Enjoy!”

Aunt: “Oh! That was yummy!”

Daughter: “Good, because you just drank your death.”

Aunt: “Did you just poison me?”

Daughter: “Yes. Please die now.”

Aunt: “But I’m not ready to die!”

Daughter: “I asked nicely!”

Me: “Well, she did at least ask nicely.”

Aunt: “You do know your uncle will avenge me rig—” *falls over on the couch pretending to be dead*

Daughter: “That worked well.” *covers her aunt with a blanket*

Me: “I’m going to have to talk to your father about what is being watched at his house.”

Aunt: “Remind me to never take real food or drinks from her.”

Me: “Agreed.”


This story is part of our Creepy Kids roundup!

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No Aptitude For Latitude, Part 3

, , , , , , , | Related | October 16, 2013

(My dad’s aunt is visiting from Texas, and she wants to visit NYC, about two and a half hours away. My aunt, my grandmother, my mom, and I take a day trip up there. After walking a lot, my aunt stops and leans against a building with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.)

Mom: “Are you okay?”

Great-Aunt: “Oh, I’m fine, just a little winded because of the altitude. I’m not used to being this far above sea level.”

(Another sister of theirs lives in Colorado, so I assume that’s how she got it in her head that being out of breath in another state is the same as thinner air.)

Me: “But we’re at sea level, on an island. The ocean is right over there.”

Great-Aunt: “Oh, no, honey; we’re much higher up here than at home.”

Grandmother: *totally serious* “Right, because if you look at a map, Texas is down here, and New York is way up here!”

(When we get home, I look up the actual altitudes just for kicks. According to Google, New York City is 33 feet above sea level. Houston? 43 feet.)


This story is part of our New York City roundup!

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A Monster Of A Rewrite

, , , , , | Related | August 16, 2013

(I am about 11 years old, and am being home-schooled. I’m working on my spelling/vocabulary lesson, and have to write a short story using every word in the lesson. I write a story about a superhero who has the power to turn the villains and monsters good. I am proud of my story.)

Aunt: “Why does she make them all turn good?”

Me: “Because they were evil and hurting people.”

Aunt: “Well, it’s not right to make someone do something they don’t want to do. You should change it.”

Me: “How do you know they don’t want to be good?”

Aunt: “They’re monsters. Rewrite it.”

(I stop arguing, and change the ending drastically by making the superhero kill the monster. She doesn’t like this one either. She makes it clear that she wants it written one way.)

Aunt: “What is this?”

Me: “My alternate ending.”

Aunt: “Killing people is bad!”

Me: “They’re monsters, remember?”

Aunt: “That doesn’t change anything. Rewrite it!”

Me: “To what? You didn’t like the first one!”

Aunt: “Just change it!”

(By now, I am quite irked, and change the story once again to a more generic superhero story ending.)

Me: “Here.”

Aunt: “So she just sends him off?”

Me: “Yes.”

Aunt: “It’s better, but why did you choose this ending?”

Me: “Because you told me to.”

Aunt: “That’s not a good reason. Why don’t you write a new one?”

(I am more irked now, and refuse to write another ending.)

Me: “I’ve already written a new one!”

Aunt: “And I want you to write it over!”

Me: “Fine! How about the superhero goes and turns the monster into a good guy so she doesn’t have to keep fighting him? That way everyone is happy. And now the monster can live happily.”

Aunt: “No, he wouldn’t be happy. He would be forced to be something he’s not.”

Me: “Yes, he would. He is my monster in my story!”

Aunt: “You can’t act that way in the real world!”

Me: “How about we leave my story be, and not force it to change into something I don’t want it to be?”

Aunt: “Are you talking back to me?”

(I don’t want to get into trouble, so I just give in.)

Me: “I’m sorry. I’ll learn from this. I can’t make people do stuff or they’ll be unhappy.”

Aunt: “Good. Now go work on math.”

Me: “Okay, Aunt [name].”

(I went on to my math lesson. I never chose to write a story for my spelling lesson again, which was unfortunate, because I love writing. I learned more from writing a story than I did copying the words over and over in my book.)