(no subject)
When I was growing up my brother and I had a dog. The dog’s name was Mercy and it was a small dog. Sometimes my brother would fart so loud it would scare the dog, and he’d run out of the room to find our mom. We use to think it was the funniest thing in the world.
It was my second or third year at college when I got a phone call telling me Mercy had been hit by a truck crossing the street. I can’t remember how I felt when I heard the news, I know I thought it was a joke, because that’s how our family roles. Mercy had been a casualty of the split up between my mom and step father. He kept the dog since he had the big front and back yard, and mom got the cat, Sugar who had been with us since the beginning. Sugar died at Christmas last year.
I’m not sure why I remembered that, except maybe because I spoke to my brother on the phone today.
“’Sup, retard?”
“Nothing, douche, what about you?”
“Dad’s sick.”
“Your dad.” The running joke was that he wasn’t my father. When he got remarried I told everyone that I was his daughter, paternity test pending. No one thought it was funny except me.
“Whatever. He’s sick, he wants to see you.” He had to repeat that, I couldn’t hear him over the thumping base of the rap music playing in the background.
“Hey, littlest thug ever, turn down the shit.”
There was coughing and finally the music subsided and so he started mumbling.
“Okay, well now that’s out of the way, how ‘bout you take the dick out of your mouth and stop mumbling?”
“Fuck you, bitch, how about you listen up for a change?”
This is how our conversations go. A lot. In fact this is how we talk to each other all the time; there was never a point in time when we didn’t.
“When you comin’ out? We can hang, roll a fattie. Get stoneeddd.”
Last time I got stoned with my brother he left me out in the middle of a field and I had to walk all the way home. So I called the cops on him and he got arrested for driving without a license and for possession. Revenge is a dish best served, period.
“I wouldn’t come out there to even beat the shit out of you, thug loving.”
“Fine, whatever, go get a pap smear.”
Silence. You wouldn’t know it but my brother, at one point in his life wasn’t the gangster loving wanna be that is portrayed in this conversation. He use to be sweet, intelligent, and with a bright future ahead of him. However somewhere along the way he took a nose dive and he’s been diving ever since.
“Ha, I fuckin’ win.”
“No, no you fail. Big time.”
It was my second or third year at college when I got a phone call telling me Mercy had been hit by a truck crossing the street. I can’t remember how I felt when I heard the news, I know I thought it was a joke, because that’s how our family roles. Mercy had been a casualty of the split up between my mom and step father. He kept the dog since he had the big front and back yard, and mom got the cat, Sugar who had been with us since the beginning. Sugar died at Christmas last year.
I’m not sure why I remembered that, except maybe because I spoke to my brother on the phone today.
“’Sup, retard?”
“Nothing, douche, what about you?”
“Dad’s sick.”
“Your dad.” The running joke was that he wasn’t my father. When he got remarried I told everyone that I was his daughter, paternity test pending. No one thought it was funny except me.
“Whatever. He’s sick, he wants to see you.” He had to repeat that, I couldn’t hear him over the thumping base of the rap music playing in the background.
“Hey, littlest thug ever, turn down the shit.”
There was coughing and finally the music subsided and so he started mumbling.
“Okay, well now that’s out of the way, how ‘bout you take the dick out of your mouth and stop mumbling?”
“Fuck you, bitch, how about you listen up for a change?”
This is how our conversations go. A lot. In fact this is how we talk to each other all the time; there was never a point in time when we didn’t.
“When you comin’ out? We can hang, roll a fattie. Get stoneeddd.”
Last time I got stoned with my brother he left me out in the middle of a field and I had to walk all the way home. So I called the cops on him and he got arrested for driving without a license and for possession. Revenge is a dish best served, period.
“I wouldn’t come out there to even beat the shit out of you, thug loving.”
“Fine, whatever, go get a pap smear.”
Silence. You wouldn’t know it but my brother, at one point in his life wasn’t the gangster loving wanna be that is portrayed in this conversation. He use to be sweet, intelligent, and with a bright future ahead of him. However somewhere along the way he took a nose dive and he’s been diving ever since.
“Ha, I fuckin’ win.”
“No, no you fail. Big time.”