A Fourth Reason: Insecurity

A year or two ago, the television show "Girls," was the next big thing everyone was talking about. Created by mid-twenty-something Lena Dunham, the show is often described as a modern version of "Sex and the City" for twenty-something women. I don't have HBO, and "Girls" isn't streaming on Netflix, so I never really got around to watching it. Recently, though, a friend told me about this website where you can watch a bunch of different television shows for free (illegally, of course), and "Girls" was on there. My curiosity got the best of me, and one night I sat down and binge-watched my way through the entire first season.

I don't like Lena Dunham (more on than later) so I was expecting to hate the show. But to be honest, I didn't feel that strongly about it. The characters were annoying and the dialogue was clearly contrived from eavesdropped Starbucks conversations, but nothing else really stood out to me. Except for one scene.

During one part of the first season's finale episode, Hannah Horvath (Lena Dunham's character) and her roommate, Marnie have a fight. It begins with Marnie passively-aggressively insulting Hannah, and then spirals from there. The two begin attacking each other, and Marnie says at one point,"You judge everyone, and yet you ask them not to judge you!" And then Hannah responds with a line that made me reach a new level of clarity in my quest to understand sibling abuse:  

"That is because no one could ever hate me as much as I hate myself. Any mean thing someone's gonna think of to say about me, I've already said to me, about me, probably in the last half hour!"

Pause. Rewind.

Let me take you back to the year 2010, and introduce you to another, lesser known creation produced by Lena Dunham, "Tiny Furniture." This was the first feature-length film Dunham created, and tells the story of Dunham and her post-college graduation crisis. This film doesn't say much of anything--in fact, it's one of the most boring movies I've ever seen--but it does reveal a lot (at least in my opinion) about Dunham herself.

Fiction is always at least partly autobiographical, and "Tiny Furniture" is definitely a mini-autobiography of Dunham's life. Many people will notice many different things when they see the film, but one thing that certainly stood out to me when I watched it is the relationship Dunham has with her sister. What stood out to me the most was that Lena Dunham was an abusive older sibling, and her younger sister, Grace, sought revenge in her teen years. How do I know this?

As someone who has developed an eye for abusive sibling relationships, I can confidently tell you that "sibling abuse" is written all over the relationship Dunham has (or had) with her sister. One thing I dislike about Dunham is the fact that she always portrays herself as the innocent victim. In the very first scene of "Tiny Furniture," Grace starts being snarky to Lena, who then says to Grace, "You're being mean!" (Grace then quips back with, "And you're being over-sensitive!," a remark I'm sure was always leveled at her when she defended herself.)

That film made me dislike Lena Dunham (I have no tolerance for abusive older siblings, and even less for ones who think they're innocent), and "Girls" made me understand her. Why was Dunham mean to her sister? Because she was filled with insecurities, and picking on her sister made her feel better. What we see in that episode of "Girls" is not Hannah Horvath talking, it's Lena Dunham talking. And she's telling us about the hurt that pushed her to want to destroy others.

Insecurity in the abuser is another big reason for sibling abuse. For these abusers, the words they say out loud are reflections of the thoughts inside their minds. In a weird way, the abuser is also being abused--by their very self. And if we want to stamp out sibling abuse, we should focus on all of the abusers present, even the ones not visible.  

Victim Blaming

I was sitting on the couch in my therapist's office, trying hard to absorb what he had just said to me. I felt confused. It just didn't make any sense. We had been discussing my past with my siblings, and how this connected to the overwhelming depression and anger I had been feeling for the past few years. I wanted to get better, and was looking for answers. After a few sessions of listening to my problems, my therapist presented to me the reason why: it was all my fault. 

"I think that no matter who your siblings were, this would have been the outcome," he said. "Your personality invites it," he told me, referring to the bullying (and my nicey-nice temperament). At the time, I thought that since he was my therapist, he must have been right. So I ate his words, and said to him, "I guess if I had fought back, my sister would have stopped being mean to me."

"Oh I guarantee you she would have," he replied. 

Looking back on that conversation disgusts me. I do not believe, for one second, that what happened to me was my fault. As I've said before, there are many factors that contribute to sibling abuse. The victim him- or herself is not one of them. 

Victim blaming is a problem in discussions about sibling abuse. While my therapist is probably the most blatant example of the problem, I've seen it creep up in other resources too.

The parenting classic Siblings Without Rivalry trespasses into victim-blaming territory with its proposed solutions for bullying siblings. In the chapter "Siblings in Roles," the authors address bullying behavior in their subtopic "Freeing Children to Change." They use a little formula called, "No more 'victims,' no more 'bullies'." They show how this works with little cartoons where a parent can "free a bully to be compassionate and a victim to be strong." 

So that seems harmless enough, right? What's wrong with that approach? 

A couple of things. 

First of all, what the authors are proposing is the "don't use labels" approach. This has been used before in bullying prevention, but it has never been used--and isn't supposed to be used--as a main solution. Not calling the bully "a bully" and not calling the victim "a victim," is supposed to be one of many, many tactics that can be used to help prevent bullying. But it is not the panacea for ending bullying. And it is surprising to me that the authors of Siblings Without Rivalry present it as such. 

My second beef with this approach is the assumption the authors are making. They're assuming that if a child is being picked on, that child is weak. Throughout the book, not just in the chapter on sibling roles, the authors provide example after example of a bully picking on a sibling who is meek and mild. They're implying the bullying is happening because the victim is timid. Not a single anecdote is given for cases where the chosen victim fights back. 

And unlike what Faber and Mazlish have presented to us in their book, victims do fight back. In real families, sometimes the victim is timid, and sometimes the victim is tough. Sometimes the insults cause the victim to shrink back, and sometimes they make the victim lunge out. But in either case, the result is the same--the victim's reaction almost always has no effect on the attacker. I've seen many families experiencing sibling abuse. Whether the victim reacts passively, aggressively, or assertively, the bullying almost always continues. (This is why it's important for parents to understand that sibling abuse can exacerbate the fighting between siblings, and even if the two of them are fighting, it's important to get to the guilty party and hold that person accountable.) 

What does a victim have the power to do? They have the power to

• (Try to) avoid their sibling
• Tell their parents the bullying is bothering them
• Emotionally distance themselves from their sibling
• Stand up for themselves ("stop making fun of me," etc.)

I know children who have done all of these things, and still the bullying didn't stop. Ask people who were once victims of sibling abuse,and 99.999% of them will tell you, "I DID stand up for myself!!!....And it never worked." This is why "learned helplessness" is one of the long-term effects of sibling abuse. It's not that victims are "weak," it's that their attempts to protect themselves have very often failed. 

Within the family, children are not in charge of punishments. Those belong in Mom and Dad's territory. And as any parent will tell you, one of the first rules of parenting is to not nag and yell, but follow through with consequences. If a child misbehaves, that child gets one warning. If he doesn't comply, his action should be immediately followed with a consequence. So what if you're a kid, and you can't give out consequences? What happens then? 

Also, a parent saying "stop it" is very different from a child saying "stop it." Parents are the authority figures in the family, and are in charge of setting family rules and expectations. Unlike siblings, parents are not equal to their children. They hold power over their children, and are expected to make their children comply. Siblings simply do not have this power. 

This power dynamic shifts once the kids grow up. When you're an adult, you have the power to cut off a relationship with your sibling. This couldn't have happened before, when you were both living in the same house. But as an adult, you finally do have the power to provide consequences--in the form of taking away your sibling's privilege of having a relationship with you. This threat of "treat me respectfully, or else you'll lose me" is often enough to make the abuser comply. And if they don't, then the power is still in your hands, and you can finally punish your sibling--permanently. 

To my old therapist--I can guarantee fighting back would not have stopped my sibling. But more involved parents, family expectations implemented earlier, and consequences would have. In finding solutions for sibling abuse, pointing fingers at the victims will not empower them. Instead, let's hold the proper parties accountable, and take the burden of blame off the victims' shoulders. What happened to them is not their fault.  

My Story

To date, I have not yet shared my personal experience with you. A few snippets of "my story" have appeared in some of my other posts, but none of them have fully covered everything I went through. So brace yourself as I tell you all about how sibling abuse has affected me. (Fair warning: some of the following incidents may be triggering to some of you. I won't mind if you skip my story altogether and post your own in the comments below.)

So here goes. (deep breath)

I must first give you some family background. It is important to know that I come from a very large family. While I won't reveal the exact number, I will tell you that we're not quite Duggar-status, but we're enough to turn heads in public places. I am also not the very youngest child in my family, but I was still bullied by my two older siblings. They teased, taunted and tortured me with no mercy. The abuse was never physical or sexual in nature, but that doesn't mean it didn't traumatize me. To this day, I still feel angry whenever I remember what they did. 

After about a year of researching sibling abuse and bullying in general, I have come up with a couple of theories as to why it happened. One of the most important factors in my case was the fact that my parents were uninvolved. If you have not yet read my previous post on uninvolved parenting, I'll give you a brief synopsis of what it is. Parents who are uninvolved are parents who are essentially neglecting their children. They provide little supervision, interest, or involvement in their children's lives, and may not even adequately fulfill their children's needs. This was my family in a nutshell. 

My mother was constantly praised for parenting such a large family, and the other mothers would ask her in amazement how she "did it all." The fact was, she didn't do it all. She didn't even try to do it all. When I think back to my childhood, I think my mother thought that because it was impossible to give all of us the attention we needed, she didn't even have to try. Having a big family, to her, was an excuse to not try. And this lack of trying often meant neglect.

At my elementary school, we would gather outside in the courtyard every day for morning announcements before shuffling off to our classrooms. I remember being in second grade and freezing my ass off--because my mother never made sure I had a jacket on. I don't think I even had a jacket. I remember having a jacket at one point, a purple windbreaker, which was new (rare in my family), and which I wore religiously while it was still in my possession. But I lost it once, and my mom never found me a new one.

My clothes were all hand-me-downs (I honestly think that purple windbreaker was the single new piece of clothing I owned until at least middle school) and didn't fit me. I remember thinking, even as a young child, "When I grow up, my kids are going to have clothes that fit!" I was in high school before I had clothes that fit me. I went up to my mom one day early in my freshman year and told her, "Mom, all of my jeans are from fifth grade, we need to go shopping now." And we went. I still remember how good it felt, trying on pants in the store's dressing room. I was thinking to myself, "clothes that fit! Clothes that fit!" I was ecstatic.

Research has shown that my parents' style of uninvolvement will yield sibling emotional abuse in families. I believe that is exactly what caused the bullying in mine. Looking back, I think my two older sisters felt very insecure and dealt with these insecurities by taking them out on me (and later on, on my next younger siblings). One of my older sisters jumped at every opportunity to embarrass me. I was at a church potluck one day, and she, my mother and I were in line serving our plates. She gets to the beans, looks back at me, and says pretty loudly--and right in front of my mother--"Sybil, don't take any beans. They always make you fart." 

What did my mother say to this? Well first, she LAUGHED and then said, "Oh, guess who shares a room!" to the onlookers. This was a common theme with my parents: they never protected me, and never held the abusers accountable. If anything, they contributed to the bullying. Laughing about it was one of their favorite responses. (As well as saying "Stop fighting!" if I tried to stand up for myself.) 

As for my other older sibling, she was a different nutcase altogether. She was the very oldest in the family, and in addition to being mean, she was extremely self-centered. She knew how to get her way by forcefully bludgeoning others into bowing to her will. She twisted others into giving her what she wanted by using manipulation, humiliation and intimidation. Towards my teen years, I really started cutting her out of my life, and by the time I was in high school I hardly spoke to her at all. That didn't stop her from being mean to my younger siblings. 

Alex, one of my younger siblings, failed her driver's test the first time, and scheduled her next one a few months later. Alex's 17th birthday fell over winter break, when my oldest sister was home, and birthday traditions in our family always require an "interview session" of what has happened during the prior year in front of a camera. During her little interview, Alex said something along the lines of, "I'm taking my driver's test soon..." and then my oldest sibling interrupted and said, in her snarky way, "are you taking it or are you re-taking it?" I wanted to throttle her. 

All of this bullying affected me horribly in many different ways. The most horrible effect, I think, was the emotional damage inflicted upon me. In my teen years (which are never easy), I experienced the worst depression I believe I will ever experience in my life. It started when I was almost fifteen and continued until I was about nineteen, and was nothing short of awful. No, "awful" is not a strong enough word. To give you an impression of just how truly miserable those years were, let me tell you this: I calculated (okay, Googled) the hours there are in 3.5 years. It's about 30,681 hours. For me, that was 30,681 hours of either crying or holding back tears. I am not exaggerating. I think I cried myself to sleep almost every single night. 

And when the depression was over, the anger began. For about three years after the three awful years of depression, I walked around feeling very, very angry. Like wanting to kill people angry. I would clench my fists and bite the inside of my lips. I wanted to yell and scream at everyone, especially the people who abused me and the parents who didn't protect me.    

As I grew up, I really wanted to give my siblings a taste of their own medicine. And I did, just a little bit. My second oldest sister once made fun of me one Easter because of how I was wearing my hair. She said it made me look like a hooker. So, a few years later, when I caught her wearing her hair the same way, I went up to her and told her the exact same thing. "I love your hooker hair," I said. She looked at me sort of funny, and said, "This isn't hooker hair, it's just normal hair." I looked back at her and said, "Oh really? Because you thought mine was hooker hair whenever I wore my hair like that." It ended there, and I never again felt a pang of shame or anger when I wore that hairstyle. 

Another time, my oldest sister was making fun of the way my mom was driving (my mom is known for being a bit of a speed demon). Just a few days later, this same sister was driving equally badly, and I went up to her and said it to her face. "You're just as bad as Mom," I told her simply. It was as if I had slapped her. "What?!" she shouted. She looked extremely offended. "I'm better than you are!" she shouted at my retreating back as I walked away from her. This was further proof to me that my siblings really had crossed the line with their teasing, and my hatred of them was not just "super-sensitivity." I didn't even say anything that mean to you! I thought to myself, And you're blowing up at me! 

There were other problems that contributed to the abuse too, like my parents being in denial. Years later, in therapy, my father would admit, "You know, I've seen it, I've excused it, I've thought 'oh you know, a big family,' but no, no more." I felt a mixture of emotions after hearing that. I was glad my parents finally admitted that something was wrong. I was a little bit surprised to find out that they had known there was a problem. In my naive, childish mind I had thought that if my parents weren't saying anything about it, they didn't know it was going on. I felt validated. I knew that I wasn't going crazy after all, that other people had noticed there was a problem too. And I felt disappointed. All this time you knew there was a problem, and you didn't say anything about it, I thought to myself.

Today, I am picking up the pieces. My second oldest sister and I are slowly rebuilding our relationship. She apologized a few years ago, and has shown true remorse for what she did. Once on Facebook, Alex posted a selfie with the same hairstyle that my second oldest sister had made fun of me for. This sister wrote in a reply, "Alex, can you guess what that hairstyle has written all over it? _O_K_R!" In a comment below that, she posted, "Looker! (Not 'hooker!')." That's what's made me happy about that sibling. She has found different ways to apologize. 

My oldest sibling is a different story. She apologized...ish. But her actions never matched her words. Even after "apologizing," she continued to bully my siblings. I eventually decided that enough was enough. She has been unfriended and blocked on my Facebook for over a year, and I no longer speak to her. She will be getting married soon, and I have already told both her and my parents that I am not going to the wedding. I told her recently that I no longer trust her or love her, and that years of having been abused by her has made her lose a relationship with me. 

I started this blog in January of 2013 because I felt like this topic was in serious need of discussion. Many, many children are suffering at the hands of their brothers and sisters, and many, many parents are not doing a thing about it. I hope that in sharing my story I can shed some light on this issue and inspire you to share yours.

So what's your story? What has brought you to War on Sibling Abuse? Please comment below... 
          
  

And Yet Another Reason: Uninvolved Parenting

In these three posts I've so far written (which I'm now making into a series) about the reasons why siblings become abusive, I've not yet talked about one of the most important factors: uninvolved parenting. I've mentioned once or twice before that uninvolved parenting is the surefire way to ensure a family will experience sibling abuse. Regardless of the children's personalities. Even if the children born contain the least jealous, most flexibile, most confident, and generally nicest genes children can possess, if the parents are uninvolved, the older one--or the more aggressive or powerful one--will become an abuser. In other words: uninvolved parenting = sibling abuse, guaranteed. But what is uninvolved parenting? How do I know that parental uninvolvement is the key to creating sibling abuse? And, most importantly, why does parental uninvolvement cause sibling abuse? 

These are wonderful questions that I am happy to answer. So first, let's define uninvolved parenting: This online article gives a nice summary of what it is. But if you didn't click on the link, I'll provide a nice summary for you. Uninvolved parents: 

•  are emotionally distant from their children
• provide little supervision for their children
• show little affection
• have few demands and low to no expectations for behavior
• are being neglectful
• are generally absent from their children's lives--don't attend parent-teacher conferences, school events, etc.
• may intentionally avoid their children
• can be too caught up in their own problems to pay attention to their children

As to why such parenting results in sibling abuse, there are several possible answers. The first one is that uninvolved parenting often yields insecurity in children, and children with low self-esteem are more likely to pick on others in order to build themselves up. But that's not the entire answer. I have seen a few different families where the parents were uninvolved, and the abusive sibling was not always insecure.

One of the ways in which I found my uninvolved parenting=sibling abuse formula was by observing one of my close friends, Maria and her interactions with her younger sister, Sasha. I met Maria when she and I were in elementary school. Maria was a lot like me; shy, quiet, friendly, and above all, nice. If you observed her in the classroom, on the playground, on the bus, with her friends, with her teachers, and with other classmates, you would never, ever, ever suspect that she was a bully at home. Ever. She, like me, was one of those good little girls in school. Always following the rules. Never speaking out of turn. Never doing anything at all to upset anyone. 

She was quite a different way at home.

Before I get into that, however, I should tell you more about her life at home. I didn't suspect it then, but when I look back on our childhood together, I can spot some signs that Maria came from a home of uninvolved parents. Maria often came to school in mismatched clothing that fit her poorly. At our middle school, if a girl was caught wearing spaghetti straps, the administration would make her sport the oh-so-stylish, baggy, ugly "Drug Free" T-shirt from our school's version of the D.A.R.E. program for the rest of the day. We all owned some copy of this shirt at home, and Maria frequently wore it. Not because she was being punished. Because she had nothing else to wear. 

I remember one weekend, Maria and I had made plans to see a PG-13 movie at our local movie theater. It was a big deal for us, because we were in either seventh or eighth grade and had just turned thirteen. When my mom dropped me off at the theater, I was surprised to see both Maria and Sasha standing in the movie theater lobby. Alone. No Mom in sight. Their mother had simply used Maria's and my get-together as an opportunity to get rid of both her daughters for two hours. What's more, Sasha is five years younger than Maria. At the age of eight, she was much too young to be seeing a PG-13 movie with us.

When I saw Maria and Sasha together, I often saw Maria picking on Sasha. For no good reason. I still remember how angry I felt whenever I saw Maria teasing Sasha and then Sasha recoiling in fear. She's not doing anything to you! I would think to myself. Why are you picking on her? 

Maria and Sasha fit the textbook definition of sibling abuse: Sasha was always the victim, was frightened of Maria, and Maria was always the aggressor, always attacking with no provocation.

Was Maria insecure? Not even. I would say she was a little bit quiet, but she never gave off an aura of self-loathing like a lot of insecure people I know (and I am very good at reading people). No, Maria was a normal girl with average self-esteem. It wasn't self-hatred that drove her to pick on her (much younger, much smaller) sister.

So what was it then? What drove Maria to become an abuser? What did her uninvolved parents have to do with it? 

I believe that when parents are uninvolved, they open the doors to an evil little monster lurking in all of us, and especially in children: the power-hungry ego. When children are almost completely unsupervised, when there are no consequences for their actions, when their parents are hardly ever home, there is nothing stopping their power-hungry egos from bursting out. When they see someone younger and smaller than they are, it is just too tempting to exert their power over this defenseless creature. Power feels good, after all. As I've said before, there is almost nothing we like better than having our egos stroked. And when there are practically zero repercussions for making ourselves powerful in a negative way, we go ahead and do it. Because, especially to a small child, if it feels good, it means they should do it.

Now, in this case, there actually were repercussions. Sasha grew up. And she was angry. And she dished back to Maria everything Maria had ever served to her. And (to both my satisfaction and frustration), Maria protested loudly. At one point, I remember her saying to Sasha, "You verbally abuse me!" Oh does she? I remember thinking to myself, I wonder where she learned it from. 

Today, the sisters have burned their old bridges and built new ones. And now they're best friends. I don't know the story behind what made them get to where they are today, but I'd like to think that Maria learned the errors of her ways, and apologized for them. I'd like to think that Sasha stomped her power-hungry ego to the ground, and then Maria closed the gates to the evil monster herself. If parents leave those gates wide open, something else will come along to teach the child to shut them.     

      

Once upon a Time

Once upon a time, there was a family that lived in the beautiful land of Suburbia. This was a typical family of

the kingdom, comprised of a mother, a father and two sons, Jack and Aaron. They lived in a magnificent 4-bedroom dwelling situated in the best school district of all the land. To outsiders, their lives seemed perfectly normal. The parents were devoted, loving people who dedicated their spare time to endless PTA meetings, homework drills, chore power struggles, and battles over Internet, television and cell phone usage. This family certainly experienced nothing worse than the typical, standard problems all families faced. The other villagers thought there was no way they were harboring any dark secrets.

But they were wrong.

From the time the children woke up in the morning to when the sun went down, the older brother was dedicated to making the younger brother's life a living hell. The elder teased, tormented and traumatized the younger every opportunity he found. He found all sorts of names to call his brother, like "wimp," "loser," "weakling," "dumb-fuck," "sissy," "string-bean," and "ass-face." Oh, he especially loved the word "ass." He attached it to many of the names he called Aaron: "dumb-ass," "weak-ass," "limp-ass," "crazy-ass." If it sounded good, he said it.

The parents were at a loss. They had no idea what to do! Every time they saw Jack tormenting Aaron, they got really angry. But all of their threats, pleas and badgering had no effect. Despite his parents' warnings, shouts and tears, Jack continued being mean to Aaron, because he thought it was fun.

One night during dinner, Jack became such a bully that the mother, father and Aaron simultaneously exploded at him.

"JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, MISTER!!!" screamed the father.

"HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF WE STARTED CALLING YOU NAMES?" shouted the mother.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS! LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!" bellowed Aaron.

Jack just laughed at them.

"You think you three can stop I, the all-powerful JACK?" He proclaimed. "I'd like to see you try!"

Unbeknownst to Jack, Father, Mother and Aaron quietly accepted his challenge.

The next day, the three of them decided to give Jack a taste of his own medicine. They started by using Jack's favorite weapon against him. It started at breakfast.

"Hey, Jack-ass," said Aaron. "Isn't that the third time this week you've had bacon for breakfast? Are you turning into a pig?"

Jack didn't like this new treatment at all.
"Stop that!" He screamed. He took a blow at Aaron.

But Aaron ducked, and continued with his long-awaited retaliation.
"Oink! Oink oink oink!" He cried with glee, a satisfied smirk on his face. It was funny Jack thought teasing was a big deal now that it was happening to him.

Mother walked into the kitchen. Inwardly, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Here was someone who would rescue him!

"Mom! Tell Aaron to stop!" Pleaded Jack.

"Oh, Jack-ass," said Mother (Jack-ass raised his eyebrows). "You know that you deserve this. Don't act like the innocent victim. All those years of tormenting others, and you were sure to be tormented yourself."

Before Jack-ass could absorb the shock of this statement, his father walked into the kitchen. Maybe he could help! But before Jack-ass could ask for help, Father started up:

"Good morning Jack-ASS!" He cried. "I see you're hogging all the bacon. Do we have a pig in the family? Oh wait, I forgot. You're already a pig." He walked over to Jack-ass and took the bacon out of his hands.
"You won't be needing this anymore. We got some new food for you."

Father disappeared into the pantry for a few seconds, and came back lugging a huge bag behind him.
"This," he said, "Is everything that has been in our garden compost over the past month. You've always been a pig, Jack-ass: railing on your brother and using every tactic you can to dominate him. If you're going to act like a pig, then you're going to eat like a pig."

Jack-ass had a look of utter shock, disgust and fear in his eyes.

"EAT UP!" yelled father, and piled a heaping mass of compost on Jack-ass's plate.

"EW!" yelled Jack. "I'm not eating that shit!" And he ran out of the house, never to return.

"Good riddance!" said the mother.

"Yeah," agreed the father. He looked questioningly at the mother. "Why did we even have a worthless piece of shit like that anyway?"

"I have no idea," said Aaron. "But I'm glad he's gone now."

The three family members cleaned up the compost, washed up, and then sat down for a peaceful, happy breakfast together. They moved on with their lives, never to hear or speak of Jack-ass ever again. As for Jack-ass? Well, he became town legend, and when the villagers heard the rumors about why he ran away, they began to use his name as an insult. If someone was ever being especially mean, rude or crass, that person was then labeled a "jackass." The name-calling that Jack had once mercilessly heaped upon others was now coming back to haunt him--even his own name was not honored.

As for Jack-ass himself? He starved to death. Good riddance.