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My younger brother and I are a year and half apart. As teenagers, we often got in fistfights, terrible fights that sometimes ended with dental work and doctors visits.
When I was probably about 14 years old, we got in a bad fight outside of my grandma's house. Somewhere along the way, to end the beat down, he grabbed a bottle of flea and tick spray off of the porch and sprayed me in the eyes. Instead of worrying about the intense pain in my eyes and being effectively blinded, I was intent on knocking his head off. So, I chased him around, blinded, wildly swinging, hoping to kill him instead of getting inside and flushing out my eyes.
He proceeded to run inside and lock me out of the house. It was the middle of summer too, so it didn't help that it was like 100 degrees out and my eyes were melting inside of my head. So I stood at the door, begging for him to let me inside so I could flush out my eyes. Which he agreed to, under the pretense that I wouldn't swing at him anymore.
So I get inside, and being the incredibly smart guy I am when I'm mad, I don't even worry about my throbbing eyes anymore; and as soon as he opens the door, I come after him again. And he still has the flea and tick spray in his hand....and he hits me with it again.
Then I give up and lay on the floor in the kitchen dying, and beg him to help me flush my eyes out in the sink. That was a really hard lesson.
When someone agrees to let you inside to flush out your eyes because they have flea and tick spray in them, and all they ask is that you don't swing at them anymore...don't swing at them.
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