Scorched Brothers

I’ve just gotten off the phone to my brother. It being that particular day of the year where everyone insists on reminding you that you are yet another year older, he felt it necessary to add to the reminders.

The big Poo-Poo head.

Don’t get me wrong; I love my brother! The above is a term of endearment that was born from one of those special brotherly bonding moments; the Scorched Tanks fight to the death! With the Amiga fired up we would hurl death at each other, as well as insults, from the comfort of the lounge room floor. With a huge arsenal at our disposal a careful choice of weapon, a good aim, and a lick of chance allowed you to rain terror upon your enemy. Brother. Same difference. The more devastating the attack, the more insulting the verbal rebuttal.

Fiery Death and Insults are Hurled!

I loved that game.

So did my brother, who was better at it than I was.

Grand High Supremo Poo-Poo head.

Later Days.

About SG-3

A Scared,Weird Little Guy, SG-3 tries to wrangle his six kids under the age of 12 (including triplets, one of which has a "delightful combination" of heart defects) - but is not very good at it. A lover the great Tasmanian outdoors, but disliker of camping (especially sleeping bags!), he enjoys the odd bit of geocaching. In fact the odder the better!