Weapons of Ass Destruction

This Sunday is Mother's Day, so I thought we'd pay tribute to the time-honored tradition of getting the living shit beat out of you by your mother, using whatever object she could reach to beat you with. My mother actually was a big fan of using her own hands. Now, my mom is tiny. She's 5 feet tall and until very recently, weighed less than 100 pounds soaking wet. She was also scary (at least until I was about 12), and she packed a punch. Occasionally she liked to get creative, though. She wasn't very good at the belt thing; that was Dad. She did like to throw things, and though you'd never mistake her for Nolan Ryan, she had deadly aim when she was pissed.

There was one particular time when Eric and I were playing outside, and there must have been nothing to do, because we start to sing Michael Jackson songs while playing on the hood of the car. We were living in Salem Village, so I was probably 8, and he was 5 or 6. When you're on the hood of the car, the radio antenna makes a great microphone, until it snaps. My mother beat us with that radio antenna for 6 months, and that fucking thing hurt more than any switch or belt you were ever beat with.

I think the last time my mother hit me was when I was about 12. I can't remember what I did to piss her off this time, but she hit me, and it didn't hurt. By this time I was taller than her and outweighed her. So anyway, she hits me, and I'm trying really hard not to laugh. I didn't succeed, and she gets really pissed. She picks up a hard plastic baseball bat and starts swinging it at me. That was even funnier, and she stormed out of my room and gave me the "wait until your father gets home", which almost never amounted to anything. I'm pretty sure that's the last time my mother hit me.

P.S. I'm fully in favor of beating the hell out of your kids if the those little fuckers step out of line....