February 25, 2009
I’ve been bagging a bit lately on my younger brother, like when he mowed the raspberry bushes so that he wouldn’t have to weed and pick them. And NOTHING happened to him. I don’t know if my Mom even noticed.
But really, I guess, I was getting him back for that in advance for years.
Like the time I clipped my toenails in my own room, next to the bed. When I was done, I gathered up the toenail clippings, carried them into Rob’s room, and dumped them on the carpet next to his bed.
Soon after that, my Mom brought something into his room, can’t remember what or why, and she noticed the pile of toenail clippings.
“ROBERT JAMES ANDERSON!” Yeah, the full name thing.
When confronted with the pile, Rob’s instant response was “Doug Did It!”
I said “Right. I was in my room, minding my own business, decided to cut my toenails, pick up the clippings, carry them into your room, and dump them on YOUR floor. What have you been smoking?”
He had no response. Cuz really, I mean, to push his accusation any further would be like admitting that you worry about the Black Helicopters.
That’s right. I’M the black helicopter in this scenario. Me.