So my mouth has got me in trouble again. Will I ever learn? Probably, not.
You see I have been dared! By who? By a Mr.Charles Gulotta, that is who.
Leaving an innocent comment on his most excellent blog: “Mostly Bright Ideas” resulted in the blog’s host saying he would write-up a dare post if I would.
Now, a smart person would have left it at this. But no, I had to be a smart-ass and double dog dare him to do it first! So he wrote up the post and you can find it at the link above.
At the end of the post he called me a chicken or a least he implied it. No, on second thought, I think we can safely say, that yes, he had in fact called me a chicken. How could I let that go?
I am not going to try and top what he wrote, that would be dumber than me accepting the dare, but I will be a good sport and write about the one dare I remember taking as a child which resulted in a trip to the ER. I have written it up in story form.
It was a warm day for October, more like late spring than Fall, Rachael had turned 8 that day. Now, most children have same aged cousins to play with, but due to the fact that Rachael was the ninth child of ten, she had one nephew and about 3 nieces over to party like only 6-8year-olds can.
Having gorged themselves on cake and ice cream and now driving the adults mad, by running and shouting through the house on a sugar high, it was suggested , rather loudly,that since it was so warm, “Why don’t you kids go play outside?” It really was a demand not a question.
The kids taking the hint and coming to the conclusion that where there are no adults around there is more of a chance to get away with something,they all trooped outside. After standing around like idiots for a while, the nephew spied a rope dangling from the garage eve. He asked, “What is that?” Smart-assed even then, Rachael retorts, “I think it’s a rope?” Unfazed he asked, “Why is it hanging there?”
After, explaining that her older brother had set-up a haunted house the week before in the garage and that the rope was what was left of the poor dummy who had been hung there to create a dramatic entrance, the nephew stated, “I bet I could swing on that rope to the grass.” Rachael looked at the distance of the cement driveway to the lawn and was doubtful. Always a cautious soul, she said, “You, better not try it.”
Well, even at that age a female telling a male that you better not do something, has the opposite effect and so he jerked the rope and promptly landed unharmed on the grass. Now, besides an annoying, but too smart to take the leap, little brother, he was the only male there and the nieces could not let him have all the glory. So, one by one they all took a turn on that rope, landing safely on the other side, while Rachael safely watched from a distance.
Then someone noticed that Rachael had not taken a turn and asked rather slyly if she was going to do it or not. Trying to avoid the inevitable, and thinking hard to find an excuse to save face, she paused, and that was when one of the other nieces piped up and said, “She won’t do it, she’s too chicken.”
“CHICKEN!” Well that settled it! She grabbed the rope, and she was sailing..sailing… then … BOOM!…she didn’t land in the grass like everyone else. No, she landed full force on to the cement and took the impact with her left arm. Feeling a sharp pain run down the unfortunate limb, she ran inside, like a mad demon from that hot place, and let her family know about her predicament by screaming at the top of her lungs and flaying her one good arm.
She was awarded, for her stupidity, with a free trip to the ER, a heavy plaster cast that itched like crazy, and a lot of attention, which she milked for as long as she could and which wasn’t nearly long enough.
And that is the last time I remember taking a dare, until now.
Have you ever taken a dare? How’d it turn out?