Alright, quick story. When I was a very young toddler, in fact, just outta the oven, my dad would play ball every chance he could as he was obsessed with sports growing up.
My mom insisted this one particular day that she wanted him home for some reason, his mom, my late grandmother insisted he miss the game to be with my mom and I as my mom needed some help with me (young brat Cindi! Ha! :evil:) and some alone time.
If you knew my dad, you would know a man that never misses a practice session let alone a game, God forbid!
Well somehow the two women tugged and pulled and wouldn't you know it, they got their way.
Long story short, the guy that replaced my dad that day was struck by lightning during the game and it killed him stone cold, even blew his shoes off.
So how about that? This brat could've been a bastard.