He's My Brother, Among Other Things
I look up from my spot on the sofa when my younger brother walks in the front door. As usual, he lets the door slam open into the vintage wine cabinet we have in the foyer. I roll my eyes and go back to my book.
“Be quiet, mom’s sleeping,” I tell him.
He’s grinning at me. We haven’t been getting along well enough lately for him to be grinning at me. Immediately I run through a couple of familiar scenarios. He could be high—he does like to smoke pot. He could be drunk, which in my opinion is slightly more legal, even if he is underage.
“What?” I finally ask him, since he obviously needs the acknowledgement, not to mention the fact that his stupid grin is freaking me out.
“Look,” he half-laughs.
He lifts his t-shirt and my book hits the floor with a loud smack. I can’t believe it. He pierced his nipples. Both of them. I’m appalled but I can’t stop staring until he starts laughing.
“Looks good doesn’t it,” he says as he puts his shirt down.
I shake my head, “Dad’s going to kill you.”
“Hush. Mom’s sleeping,” he says sarcastically as he heads toward his bedroom.
Before he gets to the door he turns around and starts laughing. He pulls his shirt up and does what I can only assume is an impersonation of that crazy character off of “Waterboy.” You know, the one that can’t speak English and walks around in a pair of over-alls with his nipple piercings hanging out?
I close my eyes and wait for his bedroom door to shut before I crack a smile. Funny or not, I’m not about to encourage him. It’s things like this that lead to fights. It doesn’t seem like a big deal. I mean, they’re his nipples, right? But the problem is he probably spent a hundred dollars doing that ridiculous stuff when he could have paid back some of the money he owes my parents for dropping out of community college. Or maybe he could have paid me back some of what he’s borrowed since he doesn’t have a job.
It’s these kind of things that make me resent him. He has no regard for other people. He won’t take out the garbage even though everyone else stayed home all day cleaning the house while he was out playing pool. He won’t help clean the yard even though it’s his cigarette butts all over the yard.
My brother is the most inconsiderate and selfish person I know. He’s lazy and he always gets what he wants because he’s manipulative. He also makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I get stomach cramps. I hate that. In fact, that’s one of the things I hate most about him. I don’t want him to make me laugh when I’m mad at him. I don’t want to like him when he gets to use up all the mistakes—putting more pressure on me to be perfect. Not that it takes all that much, comparatively.
He opens his door and comes out with my dad’s electric-muscle-contractor thing in his hands. The sticky pads are over his newly pierced nipples.
“Watch this,” he tells me.
“Be quiet, mom’s sleeping,” I tell him.
He’s grinning at me. We haven’t been getting along well enough lately for him to be grinning at me. Immediately I run through a couple of familiar scenarios. He could be high—he does like to smoke pot. He could be drunk, which in my opinion is slightly more legal, even if he is underage.
“What?” I finally ask him, since he obviously needs the acknowledgement, not to mention the fact that his stupid grin is freaking me out.
“Look,” he half-laughs.
He lifts his t-shirt and my book hits the floor with a loud smack. I can’t believe it. He pierced his nipples. Both of them. I’m appalled but I can’t stop staring until he starts laughing.
“Looks good doesn’t it,” he says as he puts his shirt down.
I shake my head, “Dad’s going to kill you.”
“Hush. Mom’s sleeping,” he says sarcastically as he heads toward his bedroom.
Before he gets to the door he turns around and starts laughing. He pulls his shirt up and does what I can only assume is an impersonation of that crazy character off of “Waterboy.” You know, the one that can’t speak English and walks around in a pair of over-alls with his nipple piercings hanging out?
I close my eyes and wait for his bedroom door to shut before I crack a smile. Funny or not, I’m not about to encourage him. It’s things like this that lead to fights. It doesn’t seem like a big deal. I mean, they’re his nipples, right? But the problem is he probably spent a hundred dollars doing that ridiculous stuff when he could have paid back some of the money he owes my parents for dropping out of community college. Or maybe he could have paid me back some of what he’s borrowed since he doesn’t have a job.
It’s these kind of things that make me resent him. He has no regard for other people. He won’t take out the garbage even though everyone else stayed home all day cleaning the house while he was out playing pool. He won’t help clean the yard even though it’s his cigarette butts all over the yard.
My brother is the most inconsiderate and selfish person I know. He’s lazy and he always gets what he wants because he’s manipulative. He also makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I get stomach cramps. I hate that. In fact, that’s one of the things I hate most about him. I don’t want him to make me laugh when I’m mad at him. I don’t want to like him when he gets to use up all the mistakes—putting more pressure on me to be perfect. Not that it takes all that much, comparatively.
He opens his door and comes out with my dad’s electric-muscle-contractor thing in his hands. The sticky pads are over his newly pierced nipples.
“Watch this,” he tells me.
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