I was about 9 I think when my Mom and step Father planned a night out. Every once in a while they used to go out to eat to places like Red Lobster or Benihana. My mom use to always come home with a little ceramic Buddha from Benihana that they served drinks in there and she bring them home and put them on a shelf as a knick knack. They hired a sitter to come watch me for the night. I stayed in my room most of the short time that she was there. It was the first time this sitter had watched me. I had this huge table in my room that Bruce had put in there because I had too much stuff and didn’t like to clean my room. That table was supposed to help me keep my room clean by having a place to put my things. It didn’t work. It ended up being a huge pile of clusterfuck and I always had to dig for things because it was all buried.
So the sitter is in the living room watching TV or on the phone or maybe she had a boy over – I didn’t care and I wasn’t really paying attention as my door was shut. I was a pretty self sufficient kid and I had plenty of important shit to do in my room on my own like matchbox racing and Star Wars wrestling while rockin out to Kiss on my little playschool record player. I was climbing on the big table in my room trying to find something and I raised my head up and hit it on the window frame and it hurt like a sonofabitch. I immediately got pissed and threw my fist through the window breaking it and instantly having glass shards sticking out of my hand all over and blood everywhere. The sitter comes in and screams and immediately calls my Mom to tell her to get home. They got there rather quickly and I never saw that sitter again. Hey it’s not my fault – the window had to pay!
To this day those little Buddha dolls remind me of that fucking window and what it did to me. But I showed it – that window frame never did hit me in the head again.