Though I wasn’t an actual heathen, I looked like one compared to my older sister Phyllis.  In her religious fervor, she never missed a church service, sang in the choir, and volunteered for all kinds of activities. Conversely, I dreaded Sunday mornings, knowing I’d have to sit through another long service.   This rankled me, so one Sunday I decided to brighten the day by propping a bucket of water over our bedroom door, knowing Phyllis would be coming through in a minute or so. 
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I didn’t have to wait long for the dousing, but to my horror, Mother was the victim, not Phyllis!  Miraculously, as Mother stood there drenched from head to foot, it struck her as funny!  To my shock, she laughed hysterically, saving my sorry life.  Fortunately, she still had her pin-curled hair still tightly wrapped in a scarf, so her Sunday hairdo wasn’t ruined, probably the only thing that saved my life.

Being a fast learner and a really smart kid, I had to try it again since it had worked out so well.  Reasoning Phyllis would never expect an attack now, I set my bucket trick up again about twenty minutes later when she was due to come flying through to put the finishing touches on her “Glory Look!”  Holy Cow!  The door opened and I got Mother again!  This time she was all dressed, hair styled, makeup perfect, ready to walk out the door! 

I expected to die.  Thank God! Thank God! Shock got her again.  She laughed like a maniac, reprieving me.  I’d thought I might be going to Jesus then and there!