Jan 5, 2016

So I'll start this off by stating that I never met my grandfather because he passed away before I was born, but after hearing about some of the wraths he laid on my relatives, he might be the single most formative figure in my life, for fear of me catching a beating from the spirit world on his behalf.

Some background: My father is one of 7 (four sons, three daughters). Plus they lived with their grandmother, so that's 10 bodies in one home including my grandparents. Needless to say, with that many bodies, there's gonna be mayhem if the house lacks law and order. That's where grandpa comes in.

So here's a story to illustrate:

The story is set in my father's childhood home during the '70s. My father shares a room with his younger brother, my father being 12 years old an his younger brother being 8 years old. Their oldest brother is home from his first semester of college on winter break, and he's staying in the room with my dad and the youngest brother, for lack of more room in their house. Now this brother is in college, 18 years old, he's a college athlete, 6'7" weighs about 210. Grown.

My grandfather isn't as big, but he's no slouch physically. At this point he's in his mid 40's at this point and he's 6'4" weighs about 240. These physical attributes will play a part later in the story.

So our story is set on a Sunday morning. This is a devout Catholic family, so church is a forgone conclusion every Sunday morning, barring a natural disaster. The Sunday morning ritual, is that my grandfather would wake up and, on his way to the bathroom to shower and shave, would wake everyone up. This morning is no different. He wakes up, walks down the hallway and wakes all the siblings up, before stopping at the end of the hallway where my dad and his brother's are sleeping.

He opens the door and says, "Wake up boys, we're leaving for church in 30 minutes." Now my dad and younger brother know the drill, they get up and start getting ready for church, but they notice that their older brother hasn't moved. They're like "Hey get up for church," and he's like "f--- outta here, I don't go to church anymore. I'm the man."

So my grandfather finishes his shower and before he starts shaving he checks that everyone is up and getting ready, and he see's that my uncle is still in bed. So he says, "hey, get up and get ready for church, you've got 20 minutes." He then goes and shaves. Meanwhile, my dad and the younger brother are almost fully dressed, they're on their older brother like, "Yo, I hope you know what you're doing. We can't help you if he goes off on you." But, as you could guess, my uncle is still on some f--- it s--- and he doesn't get up.

So my grandfather finishes shaving, goes and puts on his Sunday best, and then comes back to make sure my uncle gets his insubordinate a--- out of bed. He comes in again, my uncle still in bed, and says, "For the last time, get up and get ready for church." Now here is where the story get's lit.

My uncle says, "No... Make me." (basically the verbal form of this: )
And now my dad and the younger brother are standing on the side of the room like:
And my grandfather is looking in the doorway like:

Then my grandfather snaps, and walks over to the bed. Now mind you, the beds in this room are old school trundle beds. So my uncle is sleeping the upper bed that's about waste high on my grandfather. So he, in all his dad/old-man mighty strength, grabs my uncle and all the sheets he's wrapped in, and hurls him across the room, through the sliding closet doors, on some Pike's Market s---



Except instead of a frozen salmon, imagine it being a 6'7", 210 lb man.

So he's laying there with his upper body on the floor and his legs up in the air on the closet door, wrapped up in the sheets. To add insult to injury and punishment, the closet shelves collapse and all the contents of the shelf come raining down on my uncle.



So now he's a miserable pile of limbs, bed sheets, books, board games and clothes.

And my grandfather, like the boss he was, calmly says, "the car is leaving for church in 5 minutes, I expect you to be there," and then he walks out of the room.

My dad and his younger brother are sitting there like .

My uncle slowly evaluates his life and he decides to get dressed and go to church with everyone.

Now my dad says that my grandfather was a genius because if that whole scene wasn't enough to motivate him to behave, every time he went into the closet from that point on, it was a little bit f----- up because the slots for the door got kinked, so he was reminded not to disrespect his father every time he ever went into the closet for anything.

The beating that kept on beating.

 

Jan 5, 2016

Real talk my dad would hit me with one of those vegetable cutting boards, the thick=a--- wooden ones

He wrote popping paddle on it but he isnt a good speller so it read popin paddle

 

Jan 5, 2016

d--- so a variety of backgrounds here.
Good s---
So here's the mexicanl life style I grew up in.
First of all. My mom would snap randomly and go ape s--- on us man she had no mercy on us. Imma rank her weapons.

#1. The Chancla aka sandle/shoes/boots
Classic weapon in the Mexican house hold s----s were every where especially att ayoung age when my brothers were in hs
My dad and mom would throw these knockoff crip adidas sandles at us for every f---ing litle thing.
B. I swear thy would ask us to bring them the sandles and if we took long or said no. They'd f---ing get up grab them e and chunk the s--- out of them at us like we were In a 5th grade dodgeball game.


#2 the salt shaker.
Bruh. This should be number 1 but it didn't happen as often.
So one time we were eating our usual beans rice plates whatever and I love ketchup so my brother was like yo eat that rice with ketchup it's good. We were like 10 and 12 so as the youngin I was I followed through. I was so grossed out and snitched. My mom had sat down by this time and sh grabbed the salt and threw that b---- like a 96 mph curveball word to Clayton Kershaw. My brother had a HUGE bump on his forehead, he coulda died that day idk how he didn't bleed.
The variety of saltshakers was real but I remember these specifically.


#3 the broom.
This was usually used when we managed to run away from my mom, my dad just used a belt , so once we started growing we were able to run from my mom and dodge her chancla curveballs so we'd hide in our closet or under beds.
Bruh. She would make sure she f----- us up. She get the broom and f---ing poke the s--- outa us like the Mario party mini game where your on the canoe trying to let them little flying n----s poke coins out of the other players.

 

Jan 6, 2016

Shouts to @ODB legendary story teller. The influence is real

 

Jan 6, 2016

JCN users>>>J. Cole at telling stories

 

Jan 5, 2016

My dad on some skyrim s--- naming his customized weapon lmao

 

Jan 5, 2016

My dad used a f---ing cheese grater

 

Jan 6, 2016

bruh this is the greatest representation of imagery in a text that i have ever seen. I felt like i was included in your story the wholw time. you should write a book or some s--- hahahah

that clayton kershaw line had me dying

 

Jan 5, 2016

@Criza Dude I came in here just to talk about the infamous chancla....
For me it was a variety of shoes her sandals, her flats, her platform sandals,etc. but the good thing was that it gives you time to run or cover when you're seeing them heading for it.

But yeah my mom was Mexican as f--- and she got the s--- beat out of her growing up by my Grandma and her older sister so I got it too. After she tried hitting me with her shoes and realized I ran too fast for her timing it started being hands and I got the s--- slapped out of me a variety of times. I am a Latina so I have a smart f---ing mouth so sometimes I don't blame her. But then I realized she was weak af so I started blocking her hits at like 16 or 17 and I never got hit again.

My dad on the other side is also Mexican af and he never ever ever hit me. I'm his only child and a girl so I was off limits

Also I'm 12 yrs older than my brother and I've hit him before bc he threw a remote at me and it hit my mouth so he got these hands real quick. My mom was not pleased. But whatever

 

Jan 5, 2016

My mom touched me with a boiling hot spoon once

 

Jan 5, 2016

I caught a few beatings with those, but the big a--- wooden spoons are way worse IMO.

 

Jan 6, 2016

@Criza accurate af


My mom definitely used to catch me with the chancla but it was nothin serious. My pops was always a tough love type of guy, but rarely ever put hands on me. One time he came at me with the belt for f---in up his jewelry. I used to like putting s--- in the back of the oscillating fan cus the stuff would tumble around the blades for a few seconds and then projectile out the front. Funnest s--- ever. Well i decided to grab my dads rings n s--- and try that. It worked according to plan til i heard my dad get out of bed so I ran out the room and pretended to be watching tv. As he stumbled out his bedroom into my room he saw one of his rings on the ground mangled as s--- and looked at me. He picked it up then he looked at the other 5 rings scattered around the floor lookin worse than the first one. I knew i was done, he didnt even say s--- he just started walking towards me unbuckling his belt and I just accepted my faith, laid on the couch and started cryin like a little b----.

Other time, I was like 8 and I wanted to go to the beach but my dad worked out of town and had to leave for work that afternoon. As he was gettin ready to leave I went outside and got on my "if we aint goin nowhere than u aint goin nowhere" s---. I crept down by the front tire of his lincoln and pushed the lil valve. It started hissing and the tire started goin flat. Once I was done with that one i moved on to the next one and so on, each tire felt like it took 15 minutes to go completely flat. My finger was hurting from pressing that lil valve, but I was determined. When i got to the last tire I heard my moms from the kitchen call my pops and tell him she heard something out side. I was like moms really just snitched. I slowly rose up and peeked over the car as my pops walked out the door. This is like 30 minutes before he had to go out of town, he had cowboy boots, pants, no shirt and an unbuckled belt. He caught that eye contact with me, he looked down at his tires, I did too. He looked back at me and I looked at his belt. Before he had a chance to moved I jetted. I just said

Just started running down the street legit thinkin "thats it i aint comin back. ill stay at the homies house for a few days get a job at the little corner store, ill be aight". Neighbors all staring at me. I peeped back and saw my pops in his cowboy boots in a all out sprint behind me, this man was catchin up! I let out a scream and again started cryin like a b----. So im running, crying and screaming at this point and my pops is creepin up on me. He finally catches up grabs me like a ragdoll n throws me over his shoulder. And carries me back to the crib while casually greeting the neighbors still staring at us.
Got my a--- pulverized that day . N pops had a lil compressor so he aired up his tires in 5 minutes and was off to work.

 

Jan 5, 2016

Bro I'm crying!

"Word to Clayton Kershaw."
And the Mario Party reference is unreal.