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Part 6 - You hammered it into my head
Kids sometimes develop disgusting habits without
really thinking about it and I was no different. At about 5 or so
I was a really diligent snot miner spending quality time with my
finger up my nose much to my father's chagrin. My dad was brought
up in a strict German household and wielded the sword of Etiquette
like King Arthur. He even went so far as to buy me the Emily Post
Etiquette book when I was older. It was a great dust catcher. There
were certain things you do not do in public (snot farming and farting
were the top two) and my father (at least for the first twelve years
of my life) was out to make sure that my brother and I did not do
any of them.
"Think back, Think back Keith to that time in the
Sears Roebuck when you learned your greatest lesson". Cut to the
kid's underwear aisle where I am happily digging for gold in my
bat cave. The next thing you know my dad is standing over me glowering
and his hand swings down and wacks the offending appendage away
from my nasal passage causing me to yelp and a trickle of blood
to drip from said passage. By this time, my mother came over to
see what the ruckus was and I looked up at my dad with tearful eyes
and howled "you hammered it into my head!" for the entire store
to hear. My mom stifled a smirk and I think that was the last time
my dad did that at least in public. Needless to say, I kept my snot
bat patrols private from then on.
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