Every few years I get to tell this story.

My parents got divorced when I was still in diapers. He had a condo in the next town over so my sister and I would spend a night at his place once a week or so. One night, I was about two or so, probably less, my sister was two years older than me, we are at my Dad's condo. We slept in the same room in bunk beds.

Our routine was to take a bath... then we would lay on the carpet naked since we were young enough and he would use the blow dryer on us which felt like heaven.

Then we would go to our room and we had this game which came with some fishing poles and fish. Each had magnetic components so you could actually "catch" the fish. So my natural response to getting back to the room with the bunkbeds was essentially "fuck yeah let's go fishing"

Unfortunately, my sister beat me to the top bunk. As I was scaling the ladder on the bunk I get to a certain point where she notices me and begins to peel my fingers off of the ladder like Scar did to Mufasa. This is the point where "Long live the king" comes into play in my memory, as I fell to what could only have been described as my all too early death.

My Dad came rushing in since he heard a thud, and asked my sister what the hell was going on. Her response? "I didn't want him to fall and get hurt."