It’s not my place to say but,
Among the numerous memorable atrocities I can so easily want to forget growing up were a list of some that I am sure will still make some of you shudder. Oh sure there are the well known wedgies and cherry bellies ,but deeper then those..further down the rabbit hole of shameful places,things that people don’t talk about at parties are these: THE INDIAN WRISTBURN...easily one of the most feared and little known about atrocities. This involved taking the victims wrist and twisting the skin with both your hands until you created at the minimum a 2nd degree burn. How do you achieve such a punsihment? Well the INDIAN WRISTBURN was more a dare then an adjudicated sentence. You only need to be too naive and woeful as to ask “what’s an indian wrist burn”...
While the wristburn certainly had its run of infamy so too did a little known practice partaken in the darkened restrooms of most junior high schools statewide in the 1970's. A little thing called “BLOODY KNUCKLES”.. Challengers ,champions and pretenders to an unhealthy crown all participated in this deluded sport. Hands were readied..knuckles cracked and combs,yes I said combs were sharpened,yes I said sharpened. To a man the bloody knuckles phenomenon was as close as you could get to fighting without throwing a punch. The “game” involved two contestants,each taking turns trying to pull a balanced comb off the curled knuckles of their opponent slicing downward. If one gladiator was unable to pull his knuckles away fats enough, a slight “oooocchhh” was heard and a small mark was visible between the knuckles. That wasn’t the end of the match though...NO ,not by a longshot. This was repeated time and again until the Knuckles resembled fresh sausage before cooking or a piece of meat sent through a grinder. Such barbarism, such mayhem. I vividly recall the hallways filled with boy-men and their scarred knuckles... Ahh.... to be young again...
The last and perhaps best kept secret of my generation occurred again at school. As lunch loomed one class stood in the way of the freedom of eating our own food or (if rich enough) a hot paid lunch..The milk was 3 cents the cafeteria had a monitor and swimming was a nightmare for every boy between the ages of 10 and 15. It wasn’t just swimming. I loved the water.. Swam like a fish, I am told. No this was swimming with a twist. IT WAS SWIMMING NAKED. AHHHHHHHHHH.. Are you kidding me???? And no one told???? All the boys huddled in a shower at Hoover Jr, High. Washing and readying for a trip to the pool..WITH EACH OTHER.?? NAKED?? That’s right..swimming classes with no swimsuits.. The horror, the amazement, the intrigue? YIKES...I wince thinking of the micro phallus and non descended testicles I bore witness to. No, this was wrong..On so many levels. To this day no one has done anything about it..save for recounting the funny stories.
E-Mail Story
Print Story
