Saturday, March 2, 2019

Scars...

I have this very clear scar on my right hand. I just looked at it again and remembered how I got it.
My wicked elder brother Paul has always been mischievous right from the womb. He was about 6 or 7years of age when he gave me this scar with a hot iron. My aunt gave him the iron to go keep somewhere, and he cornered me and washed my head till I brought it out 'voluntarily' (not with clear eyes obviously ๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ™„), then he ironed my hands with it ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ข. Wicked brother I have. This explains why I hate irons and ironing till date, it's my brother's fault ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜.

So I'm calling you out, chuks, to avoid me! You and anything that looks like Iron!
I'm sure he also has scars from the beating he recieved that day from mum ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚.

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