Toastmasters

I recently joined toastmasters at my company. The first speech I prepared was for a tall tale competition. I thought I'd share this with you, and my sisters in particular, since they were the inspiration of this tall tale.

The title of my tale is:

"Revenge is a Dish Best Served...Flaming"

Growing up with five older sisters may seem like a curse, but in reality, it’s much worse.
Not only did I have five older sisters, I was the only boy. This led to many contentious fights with my sisters, almost all of which ended the same way; one of them getting a black eye, my hair pulled out, and my mom spanking me for “starting it.” This scenario played out over and over again. By the time I was eight years old, I had had enough. I was not going to stand for this. I would have my revenge.

Sunday night, June 30th, 1974.
Our neighborhood was gearing up for its annual Fourth of July celebration. Every year, my dad was in charge of the fireworks. He would buy hundreds of dollars worth of fireworks and store them in our garage. On the Fourth, he and the other men in the neighborhood would set them up in the field behind our house and fire them off. It wasn’t spectacular, but we all had a good time.

My plan was simple.
Take my sisters’ favorite doll, Amy, the one that cooed, drank from a bottle and peed, surgically rip off its head, fill its hollow shell with fireworks, put its head back on, and throw it in the “to burn” pile of garbage for Monday night.
Like I said, the plan was simple.

Monday, July 1, 1974
My sisters were outside playing with other kids from the neighborhood. I, however, sat and watched with anticipation as my dad took the trash out and dumped it into the burner. When he struck the match and held it to the bottom of the pile I felt gleeful exuberance, and as the flames licked the top of the burn pile I could hardly contain my excitement. I knew the moment was at hand and revenge was only seconds away. How sweet this night was going to be!

My dad was talking to the neighbors when the muffled rumblings started. He quickly turned to the garbage burner, then to me. He saw the devilish smile on my face and realized he had but seconds to act. Yelling, “Get down, it’s gonna blow!” He and all the neighbors dove to the ground as the trash pile exploded.

Amy shot up ─ rocketing nearly 1,000 feet into the air; a blazing trail of garbage following behind.

My sisters looked up in horror and screamed, “Amy!” Oh, it was sweet. As the flaming doll reached its apex, it exploded into a multi-colored fireball. I sat in stunned silence─ this was not part of the plan, but it was so much better than I had imagined. I was mesmerized. What happened next, however, made me think I might have taken this too far.

The neighbors started running for their homes as molten pieces of plastic baby doll came raining down. My sisters, in tears after watching their precious Amy take a mini-apollo moon shot, ran screaming as hundreds of tiny molotov cocktails, landed on cars, picnic tables, and homes throughout the neighborhood. Burning bits of baby doll were everywhere. It was surreal.

Finally, Amy’s head came falling back to earth, cooing, as though she were enjoying the ride. When the head landed in our backyard it continued to coo until fireworks, lodged in her plastic little head, exploded sending baby doll shrapnel flying in all directions. The finale to a well-orchestrated plan.

Slowly, neighbors emerged from hiding. The neighborhood looked like a miniature scene from Apocalypse Now, “Ah, I love the smell of burning baby doll in the evening.” Now, as you can imagine, the neighbors weren’t exactly thrilled with me, but their anger was surpassed by my father’s. He came walking over to me and, in dismay, said, “What in the world were you thinking!”

I looked him right in the eye, smiled, and said, “I bet the girls won’t mess with me, again.”

He hesitated for a moment, almost stunned by the joy in my eyes, and said, “Son, do you realize how much trouble you’re going to be in when your sisters recover from this?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but it was worth it.”

My dad sat down and put me on his knee. We looked up at the floating garbage still burning in the sky and watched the neighbors, walking in a daze, hoses in hand putting out fires, and he said, “You know, I think you’re right.”