Curse of the cobras

In everyone's lives, there are pivotal memories. Events that shape lives and perceptions of the outside world and just how you fit in it. This particular memory centers around my older brother and the relationship that we had growing up. Of course, I am sure his memory of this particular incident differs from mine, as is the way of a 31 year old memory. I was about  4-5 at the time, so I am going to give a little allowance for any variances.

 I worshiped my older brother since the day I was born. He was older, bigger, stronger, smarter, and had such *cool* friends. As a younger sister, I tagged along many times just to be in the company of his total awesome self. Little boys and little girls are sadly very different creatures and my open worship was just a major irritation to him and his gang of friends. Who wants a little pig tailed *sister* fawning over G.I Joe ACTION figures, and mooning about whenever her stuffed puppy dog was "lost" (or roughly stuffed into a drawer without her knowing about it) or wrecking any other type of fun by telling Mum or Dad what he and his little friends were up to. Not that guy. He had skeletor to hunt down. Darth Vader to impersonate. Tauntauns to slice open and hide in. By the power of Greyskull, he had no time for a kid sister.

 Unless of course there was some kind of older brother villainy to be had, then he and his friends had all the time in the world to plot nasty surprises for unsuspecting me. Like a new toy that he got one year. They took a while setting it up I assume because the particular trigger of this toy reset to a different location each time. More on that later.

I know! Let's scare the CRAP out of Dani!

 I was playing innocently in my room, surrounded by pretty ponies, my faithful stuffed dog and was probably day dreaming about how many real live ponies would fit in the backyard and how I could cuddle with each and every one of them. And feed them rainbows. My musings were cut short by an invitation to join my brother and one of his friends in a new game! My heart almost exploded inside its ribby little cage and I grabbed up my most trusted pooch and scampered to them as quick as my scrawny little legs would carry me. This is something I had always wanted! To be asked willingly into a game, to be loved and to be allowed to just play games with them! Yay! I was sure this invitation would escalate into perhaps a tea party, or even better we would all draw our ideal ponies and name them! Yay upon yay!

I love my bother! And ponies!

 The premise of the game was spelled out for my eager ears and the promise that *I* would WIN the game sealed the deal for me. It was fairly simple. I had to take this funny looking cross thing, ("an ANKH" as he rolled his be eyes, like he was embarrassed at how uneducated and provincial I was at 4 or 5 years of age) put my arm between these two harmless snakes ("cobras") and stick it in the only hole that was available on this box thing ("Coffin! Geeze!") and then I would win! Its that simple! Even I could do it. I was dizzy with love that my brother would get so far in the game and save the winning just for me, I was more than honored to accept.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

 I grasped the tiny ankh and even though the sight of two cobras was a bit unnerving, I was assured they were there for show. The game was "Curse of the Cobras" so if they had put red vines, candy canes or chopsticks there, the game wouldn't make much sense now would it? I placed the ankh into the last open hole ....

That is a 4 year old having a heart attack.

 Much to my horror those cobras were not for show. As soon as my ankh was seated in the hole, the snakes snapped shut on my writs as a bracelet of doom, and at the top end of the coffin a plastic mummified head sprang out and if memory serves me correctly (and the memory is dusty and old so I may be wrong) there was a "ggrrrraaaahhh"! that completed the simultaneous trifecta of terror. My hummingbird heart seized into a cube of ice and the blood froze in my veins! I was CAUGHT! BY SNAKES AND A MUMMY! A mere millisecond after the snakes trapped my wrist and the mummy erupted from the tomb, my panic launched me into a race for my life, the goal? Mommy. I tore out of that room like the hounds of hell were yipping and frothing at my heels and took a direct screaming flight to my mommy. The sounds of my brother and his friend laughing rolled in behind me and my shocked heart broke. They knew that was going to happen! *gasp* they actually meant it to happen! I was crushed.

 Subsequently, my mom sided with me in this travesty and threw away the game that he'd used as an instrument of torture. Only about 4 years ago, I had found that game online and mailed it to him for Christmas. All is forgiven and he has his game back.