So.
People have families.
Families are made of individual people.
Sometimes, those people fuck up.
Sometimes the actual fuck-up itself is a new and improved level of fuckery.
This is a story about new and improved fuckery, the fuckery of a self-absorbed child masquerading as a twenty-three-year-old man.
My dad and stepmom live outside of Dallas in what is basically Mayberry, USA. For the last couple of years, they've tried various tactics of tough love, gentle persuasion and everything in between to guide my brother away from The Dark Side, but he feels that his chronic use of The Chronic is perfectly ok and the most toxic and manipulative she-devil spat out of Satan's dick is the love of his life.
Last Thursday, the oldest dog in the family had to be put down. Tinkerbell was the sweetest little black lab you've ever met and just about as genially goofy as a dog can be. It's definitely been a hard week or so for everyone, my youngest brother just had his heart broken, my dad is holding on to the mortgage by his fingernails and my stepmom has fibromyalgia that comes and goes in waves of horrendous pain. But all of that doesn't matter to my younger brother, what's important is that he gets away with smoking weed, playing WoW, fucking his succubus in his own mother's bed and generally doing whatever the fuck he wants and can get away with. Oh, he also barely has a job, dropped out of school (again) and lied to everyone about it.
Was he told not to bring weed in the house? No matter, let's smoke it in the youngest brother's room and try to pin it on either the Korean foreign exchange student or the eighteen-year-old with severe asthma.
Was he politely asked to keep the sex to his own bed? No matter, let's leave the condom on Dad's side of the bed.
When the family dog got put to sleep, he chose this opportunity to let everyone know how hard his life has been, how unfair the obstacles are for him, how things just keep happening to him to ruin his life. When it was pointed out that he lost his full ride scholarship to North Texas University because he never went to class because he was baked every day, he certainly made it a point to lose his goddamned mind, call his mother a 'bitch' to her face, encourage his sort-of girlfriend to tell his mother to 'get fucked' and generally make it known that he is leaving the family behind to do ... whatever fuckery he wants, I dunno.
The crowning jewel of his fuckery came about today; while the family was out, he decided to move all of his things ... somewhere ... but he decided to leave behind a little present in his mother's bed. It would be vaguely funny if somewhat gross and unoriginal if it had been a turd, but we got creative, didn't we?
Uncle DeeDubs, what was in the bed?
Well, children, it was a mannequin's head with a bleeding-red-Heath-Ledger-Joker smile (complete with knife marks) and eyes blackened with spray paint.
Fear not, the authorities have been notified, but there's little that can be done legally since it's not considered an 'overt threat.'
When I last spoke to Dad, he was at Home Depot, buying new deadbolts and window locks.
So I guess that in addition to my grandfather dying, my ex basically dumping me through apathy, I now have one less brother kinda-sorta.
Tell me, someone, anyone, what the fuck I should be feeling right now other than outright disgust?
People have families.
Families are made of individual people.
Sometimes, those people fuck up.
Sometimes the actual fuck-up itself is a new and improved level of fuckery.
This is a story about new and improved fuckery, the fuckery of a self-absorbed child masquerading as a twenty-three-year-old man.
My dad and stepmom live outside of Dallas in what is basically Mayberry, USA. For the last couple of years, they've tried various tactics of tough love, gentle persuasion and everything in between to guide my brother away from The Dark Side, but he feels that his chronic use of The Chronic is perfectly ok and the most toxic and manipulative she-devil spat out of Satan's dick is the love of his life.
Last Thursday, the oldest dog in the family had to be put down. Tinkerbell was the sweetest little black lab you've ever met and just about as genially goofy as a dog can be. It's definitely been a hard week or so for everyone, my youngest brother just had his heart broken, my dad is holding on to the mortgage by his fingernails and my stepmom has fibromyalgia that comes and goes in waves of horrendous pain. But all of that doesn't matter to my younger brother, what's important is that he gets away with smoking weed, playing WoW, fucking his succubus in his own mother's bed and generally doing whatever the fuck he wants and can get away with. Oh, he also barely has a job, dropped out of school (again) and lied to everyone about it.
Was he told not to bring weed in the house? No matter, let's smoke it in the youngest brother's room and try to pin it on either the Korean foreign exchange student or the eighteen-year-old with severe asthma.
Was he politely asked to keep the sex to his own bed? No matter, let's leave the condom on Dad's side of the bed.
When the family dog got put to sleep, he chose this opportunity to let everyone know how hard his life has been, how unfair the obstacles are for him, how things just keep happening to him to ruin his life. When it was pointed out that he lost his full ride scholarship to North Texas University because he never went to class because he was baked every day, he certainly made it a point to lose his goddamned mind, call his mother a 'bitch' to her face, encourage his sort-of girlfriend to tell his mother to 'get fucked' and generally make it known that he is leaving the family behind to do ... whatever fuckery he wants, I dunno.
The crowning jewel of his fuckery came about today; while the family was out, he decided to move all of his things ... somewhere ... but he decided to leave behind a little present in his mother's bed. It would be vaguely funny if somewhat gross and unoriginal if it had been a turd, but we got creative, didn't we?
Uncle DeeDubs, what was in the bed?
Well, children, it was a mannequin's head with a bleeding-red-Heath-Ledger-Joker smile (complete with knife marks) and eyes blackened with spray paint.
Fear not, the authorities have been notified, but there's little that can be done legally since it's not considered an 'overt threat.'
When I last spoke to Dad, he was at Home Depot, buying new deadbolts and window locks.
So I guess that in addition to my grandfather dying, my ex basically dumping me through apathy, I now have one less brother kinda-sorta.
Tell me, someone, anyone, what the fuck I should be feeling right now other than outright disgust?