Dirt Daubers
What started as a simple backyard ballgame turned into an all-out aerial assault after one perfect swing clanged off an old metal fence post—home to a very angry swarm of dirt daubers. Dennis ran. I hesitated. Bad call. Ten seconds later, I was shirtless, screaming, and getting lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler. The aftermath involved a makeshift ER, a can of Prince Albert tobacco, and a peanut gallery of laughing neighborhood boys. And when the swelling finally went down… I brought the kerosene.
Goosed
A backyard rinse turned into a full-contact goose brawl when Dennis got bit mid-thigh by a furious mother defending her nest. What followed was part slapstick, part survival instinct, and all chaos. One goose, one brother, zero dignity—and a memory that still makes me laugh every time Great White comes on.
Bacon Busters
We turned a pig pen into a rodeo ring, climbed the A-frame like stuntmen, and launched ourselves onto an angry sow named Suzy Q. The rides were wild, the landings rough, and Dad’s reaction? Legendary. Bacon Bustin’ wasn’t just a sport—it was summer survival, Pearl Street-style.
Stripes
A backyard go-kart ride turned airborne disaster when my brother slammed the brakes—and I became a human launch ramp. Mud flew, engines screamed, and my Batman shirt took a hit it would never recover from. No helmets, no regrets—just the Glover way: full speed, no brakes, and always a good story.