I have an uncle named Allen. When I was little, I was terrified of him.
I was about five when it all started. He was teasing me and I didn't like it. We were outside with my Grandpa watching the contractors do some work to the building my Grandpa lived in. I was backing away from Uncle Allen because he was going to poke me in the belly to see if I sing. That is when I fell down the stairs. I blamed Uncle for pushing me, but really, how could he have known how dumb I was? Who is scared of a poke in the belly?
It finally ended after I was about 10. Uncle Allen was coming upstairs to visit my grandparents and I freaked out. So, I hid under the bed in the spare room. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But, back in the day, the underneath of beds were just springs. So, guess what happened then? That's right. My hair got stuck. Completely and utterly tangled. And I couldn't get out. I struggled like crazy, but finally I just waited until Uncle Allen was gone and then cried out to Mom and Grandma. There they found me in tears. And I had to explain why I was there. I've never seen anyone laugh as hard as they did when I said I was hiding from Uncle Allen.
Seriously, he's probably one of the nicest old men ever. But back then, you couldn't convince me he wasn't going to push me down every flight of stairs around.