partners in crime

was partners in crime with my next older brother, conniving together to break into restaurants, a bowling alley, gas stations, and whatever else, wherever else we felt we could get away with.
at my age 11 and his age 13, we had conspired to break into the restaurant my mother worked at....we may have thought we were clever, but in this case, we proved to be quite stupid !
it was about 4:30 a.m. early one summer morning, we had arisen before dawn as usual, to head to the local golf-course to be at the front of the line for caddying opportunities.
we had no idea that the restaurant proprieters, who knew us well, were actually sleeping in the back room behind the diner.
suddenly, as we were attempting to pry the screen window off,....the owners shouted...."get out of here, you little bums !"
off we sped at the speed of light, as fast as our legs could carry us, to be at that golf-course a.s.a.p. as if nothing had happened.
well, we hadn't been there 10 minutes before noticing our father's car winding up the road towards the caddy-shack.
(gulp)....we had really done it this time....no doubt there would be hell to pay....and there most certainly was !
"get in the car !"....was all he said....as we soon found ourselves trembling in terror in the back seat during a chillingly silent ride home.
"get in the garage !"....of course we complied....what else was there to do ?
there we were, looking at each other knowing we were really in deep doodoo this time.
my father soon entered the garage carrying a broom-stick, the type that screws into mop-heads or push-brooms.
the interrogation began...."why did you do it ?"...."we didn't do anything !"
each time my father heard our denials his rage cranked up a few notches and "whack!"....a hard blow across the back, neck or legs was issued.
he was taking turns hitting us, waiting for one of us to finally break and admit our guilt.
after about 9 or 10 blows i had had enough and responded "because we wanted the money !!!"
he lost it completely, and again i was witness to the inhuman beast i'd last seen face to face at age 7.
"wham !" full force across the back of my head, again and again, it was me again that had to bear the full brunt of his murderous rage.
the last memory i had before what i again believed to be death, was seeing that monster with hateful fury in his eyes swinging the broomstick full-force at my head for the 4th time....

sometime later, i regained consciousness on the dirt-covered garage floor, much to my amazement i was still alive.
my brother was standing there looking down at me, as my father had returned to the house.

we both knew that mom was home, i'm sure it must have been one of her most difficult moments, realizing her kids had been trying to rob her workplace and therefore jeopardize her position there, while having to sit helpless inside the house as her husband and our father was in the garage beating her kids mercilessly with a broomstick.
why was i still alive ?
each of those blows to the head was issued with maximum strength and force by an enraged athletic full-grown man.

of course, the culture then was such that there was nowhere to turn and no-one to tell.
another horrific incident that would not be spoken of again....as if it had never happened.

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING !!!"

this particular tale continues....more to come....