There were two, identical, one in the boys’ room and one in the younger girls’ room (meaning mine.)Â There was the bedframe, and then there were wooden slats (not that those guitar necks reminded me of them or anything), connected by a fabric connector piece to either side, like sets of thick Venetian blinds running the length under the mattresses.
Our older brother, when he got mad, would run down the stairs to their room, lie on his lower bunk, and kick upwards at those slats.
Which is why one night Bryan rolled over in his sleep and innocently fell down on his big brother who was out cold below him. Justice was served.
…That’s the thing about sisters, they tell tales on you all your life, you can never get away from it. Heh.
SO. (Ahem.)
Bryan was at a show last week, selling his handmade guitars, and I just wanted to show him off a bit. Said the justifiably very proud older sister.