Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Short story!

Hey, everyone! I wrote this a while back and thought you might enjoy it!

A Brother's Point of View
I don't understand it. My family was completely fine the way it was. It didn't need a new addition. I'm not talking about a baby. That takes way less of an adjustment. It all started a year ago. Well, if you want to get technical, three years ago.

When my sister was fifteen years old, she fell in love with this other gawky fifteen year old. Although I was only twelve, and didn't know about the existence of crushes, I was still glad to see the Williamsons move away for a little three years on a military tour. Then everything went back to normal...until last year.

The family came back. The gawky teenager had turned into an attractive eighteen year old and seemed to have every intention that he could just barge back into our family. And my sister let him. I didn't have to be told anymore. I was fourteen and could tell when things were beginning to get serious.

While my parents and sister were seemingly falling all over this guy, I grew to despise his every move. I hated that while I gave Shanti a wal mart gift certificate, Jason got her chocolate, among, like, six other things.

Shanti started treating me differently when she was around her beloved Jason. She didn't tease me anymore. When I tried to talk to her about it, she got grumpy with me. I didn't like the way Shanti glared at me the rest of the day so I decided to take it up with Prince Charming.But I lost my nerve every time I approached him.

So I settled for dropping hints.

I suggested that I had known Shanti since I was born. That I had come to love her first and knew all her deepest darkest secrets that she wouldn't dare tell Jason. And it should be that way. After all, I did live with her.

Jason took the hints. He started coming to my house every day, as if to say; "who says I don't live here?"

He found out my interests by way of bribing my parents. He tried to get to know me by saying things. like; "So I hear you like to play basketball, want to play a coupe of rounds?" To which I would bluntly refuse.

But all my hard work failed me. One night, a year later, Jason came over to help on a project he and my dad had been working on in the backyard. When they came in, my dad's eyes were shining. the next morning my sister danced around the house. I put two and two together and asked my mom if the question had been asked. She giggled and told me yes.

Shanti and Jason would enter into courtship.

I made up my mind then and there that I would kill Jason.

Did you like it? I'll be posting the rest of the story in the next couple of weeks!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Day That I Pushed My Brother Into the Toilet.

Let me, before I tell you the very interesting story, introduce to you the culprit.
As the title indicates, the culprit is my brother, Sam. Here are some pictures of him to give you an idea of what he's like.

Ok. If the idea you got was that he was an angel, and liked wearing hats. You were right in one area. He loves hats and is a ham for pictures. In the last picture of him, he was an angel. But he was asleep. Alright. I admit that Sam is really great most of the time...but when he isn't...well, that's when I push him into toilets.

So today is mostly stay at home day. The boys are in a slightly bad mood as they usually are when my Dad's gone for a little while. And then I hear it.

My sister and I are eating our lunch. Catey looks at me and says: "it's your turn to check on Sam next."

Reminders like this are pretty easily satisfied. You just yell out, asking if the boys are staying out of trouble and they usually yell back something to the effect of: "We're not making a mess!"

And Since Catey just said next and not now, I kept on finishing my lunch. That's when I heard it. The sound isn't something you can put into words. I don't mean it's indescribable. I mean that it's not really any real words. just a string of gibberish from a two-and-a-half-year-old. But when you hear that sound-you know what it means. That wordless call can be roughly translated to: "I NEED A WIPING!"


So I get up like any dutiful sister who wants the screaming to stop, and walk toward the bathroom.

The screaming stops when I walk through the door. Sam is sitting on the toilet, waving a wad of toilet paper at me. I take it, starting the usual polite bathroom conversation. "You didn't try to wipe yourself, did you?"

Sam says no, so I believe him and wipe him. Then, (terrifying 'bad news' music) I flush the toilet.

Sam yells at me. "I want to flush it!!!!!!!!"

It's too late. That's what I told him. But it was really too late to stop the terrible doom.

Sam (Who doesn't like listening to anything once it involves him not getting his way) gives me his evil eye, reaches behind him, and flushes the toilet again-before it's done flushing from the first time...and he's holding the handle down.

Before I tell you what I did next, let me just explain something to you. My dad is the main fix-it person in our house. But he teaches all of us a lot of stuff. But somehow, I'm the only person who actually remembers any of it. So I really don't like it when Sam is messing up the toilet...especially when Dad isn't back till tomorrow.

I was washing my hands at the moment I saw Sam do it. Angry, pulling my hands out of the water, I yell at Sam to stop it.

He doesn't, of course. He just gives me a look very similar to the look he's giving the camera in the first picture.

Not thinking about the fact that my hands are still wet and that Sam's backside isn't really as large as it should be for the toilet, I shove his hand off the flusher handle thingy.

Sam lost his balance, like majorly. He slipped so that the only thing keeping him from falling into the toilet water below, was his arms and legs, both looped around the seat.

I pulled him up instantly, feeling kind of bad. but I'm not going to let him off so easily. Shoving him into the toilet wasn't enough punishment. So I talk to him. "Do you know why I..." oh boy. "why I pushed you into the toilet?"

Sam's reply clearly indicated his shock. "You pushed me into the toilet. That hurt."

"Yes, but do you know why?"

"You pushed me into the toilet."

I asked the question about ten million times more, telling Sam the answer each time. the response was always the same.

"You pushed me into the toilet. That hurt."

Finally I got the point across to Sam that he shouldn't hold the handle down because it could break the toilet.

I don't know if he really gets it. He's done so many thing to that toilet. Once he put about half a roll of toilet paper in the bowl while Mom and Dad were gone.

But that's another story.


Sunday, November 1, 2009

This post is dedicated to...

me not writing a post.
That's right. I don't have time to update on anything except to say that I am not updating.
Hopefully I'll have time to post something that's actually a real post soon.
Have a happy day!