I had just discovered the note on the kitchen countertop, informing me that it would just be me and eleven year old Maria (the bratty sister of my little brother’s friend) on this babysitting gig. We’d be alone together for (at the bare minimum of) four hours tonight. She was not to have any friends over, and there was supposed to be money on the countertop, with another half due at the end of the night when her parents arrived home.
I had intended on just coasting through the evening, watching TV, gaming, helping myself to their refrigerator, tweeting, whatever. But Maria was being her usual “Look at me!”-pain of an attention brat. She made a point of being as distracting as possible, constantly bothering me and being all-round difficult, like she was just begging for trouble.
The final straw, the point where I’d had enough and decided to wage all-out tickle war on the naughty little sister of my little brother’s friend was when -
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