I don’t think I’ll ever forget about the gift I got for Christmas when I was four. “Santa” had gotten me a trampoline. It wasn’t one of those small indoor trampolines, it was one of those big outdoor trampolines. Also, it was a full size trampoline so it was huge. Well anyway, I was ecstatic when I found out I had gotten a trampoline. My brother and I used to have a smaller one but our weirdo dog, Tuba, literally ate it. Tuba also somehow ate part of the wall in our house. I don’t remember exactly how he ate a hole in the wall (it wasn’t on a corner, it was on the like actual wall itself) but I think there was a hole in the wall so we could rewire an electrical outlet or something and Tuba stuck his head in the wall and just ate around it. He was a weird dog. We ended up getting rid of him because he was a little bit too weird for us. And destructive.
Enough about Tuba and onto my trampoline. I loved that thing so much, I was always outside on it. I remember one time my brother, Thomas, had his friend, Ashton, over. Ashton lived down the street so he was over all the time. Anyway, Thomas, Ashton, and I were on the trampoline when all of a sudden, this amazing idea came to me. I ran inside and grabbed some liquid soap I had gotten for my birthday or Christmas (I can’t remember which) and I squirted it all over the trampoline. I then proceeded to rub the liquid soap over the entire surface of the trampoline all while slipping and sliding everywhere.
The next story I have of my trampoline is one my brother wanted me to share in a blog. As I woke up one morning, I (like always) begged my brother to go jump on the trampoline with me. He of course said no. He is three years older than me and never wanted to hang out with me. Anyway, after about half an hour of screaming and begging him (I was really annoying and really persistent) during breakfast, he finally agreed, but only for “a little bit.” When we finished eating breakfast, I was so excited. I said something along the lines of, “Ok, let’s go! Come on, let’s go! Hurry up, let’s go!” over and over again. But of course, Thomas had other plans. Plans that had him in the bathroom for an hour or two, stinking up the entire house. When he finally got out of the bathroom, we headed for the trampoline. After a few minutes of jumping, as Thomas landed from one of his jumps, he let out a god forsaken, deadly, terrifyingly loud, burst of wind. I did what anyone whose nose works did. I started gagging. Thomas thought this was funny for whatever reason and decided to continue doing what he had just done. Every time Thomas landed from jumping, the smell got ten times worse. After a couple of seconds, I hung my head off the side of the trampoline and started violently vomiting. The smell had gotten to me. My nose hairs had been burned off. Even the grass around us had wilted from the toxic fumes (not really but still). That day, part of me died.
Note to self (and anyone reading this) never, and I mean NEVER, trust my brother jumping on a trampoline after he gets out of the bathroom.
One time when I was little, we were playing “Dead man walking” on a trampoline (without a net) and I fell off, and while I was in pain from my head literally hitting the ground, I opened my eyes and made eye contact with a lizard.
One time my brother and I were on my trampoline and I caught a lizard and it bit me and I screamed and my brother (three years older than me) left me outside while he ran to get our mom. While he was inside I screamed again (I was six) and Thomas (my brother) ran outside and asked if the lizard bit me again. I said no. He asked me why I screamed. I stared at him.
Are you ok girly? I’m worried. How do you remember all that?