I've never told anyone this. It's the real story behind one of my mother's favorite tales of my childhood injuries. I'm not sure if even she knows the truth, maybe it's just dad and me. This was long long ago, my dad was still in college, long ago...we lived in married student housing, little ramshackle huts really. anyways, my father was tickleing me on the bed, torturing me really, I'd been begging him to stop for forever, and started crying. That pissed him off. i wouldn't stop crying, that pissed him off more.
"You want something to cry about?" he screamed at me
"I'll give you something to cry about!" and with that, he took my hand, and shoved it into the gas heater by the bed. Then he told my mom it was my fault, I'd been jumping on the bed and fell off.
That was the first time...