Worst Birthday Ever

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On my 9th birthday, my mother bought me a baseball bat that was so large, Babe Ruth could not’ve swung it.  We went outside and I told my brother to pitch me a ball.  Not knowing my younger brother was standing behind me I swung the bat as hard as I could.  I missed the ball, but, with a hard follow through, hit  Kenny in the temple. 

I turned around to see him lying on the ground with a gash in his forehead with what looked like a piece of steak hanging out of the cut.  I was certain I had killed him and that piece of steak was his brain.  I ran to my room and cried like a baby, and I could not be consoled.  Five hours later , Kenny came into my room and showed me his stitches.  That was my worst birthday ever.

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