September 24, 2007
Originally published April 19, 2004
I like my brother. Hell, EVERYBODY likes my brother, and that's saying a lot, considering the fact that he is a lawyer. More people like HIM than they do ME.
My brother broke into my house and fetched my laptop while I was laid up in the hospital. When he brought it to me, he asked if there was a de-lousing station handy because he needed a DDT bath after entering the Crackerbox. I told him to bathe in some Blue Star ointment and he would be fine.
We never could get an internet connection to work off the hospital phone line, but that was okay. I was too doped to write anyway. We visited for a while and he told me to call if I needed anything. I offered him $500 to take out the night nurse.
"You don't have to kill her," I said. "Just drag her off, tie her up and throw her in the trunk of a car until I get out of here. Then, you can turn her loose." He refused. My brother is a law-abiding citizen, and he didn't have to deal with the night nurse. The shitass left me high and dry.
My brother looks a lot like me, but we are very different under the skin. I am the Wild One and he is the Picture of Sanity. I won't say this about many people, but he is SMARTER than I am. He's also a better singer and that really chaps my Cracker ass. We harmonize beautifully, but he has the better voice and a bigger range. We still sound good together-- but we ought to-- we've been singing harmony for most of our lives.
For what solace I can gather, I can still cut his ass on a guitar. Hah! Take THAT, Dave.
I love my brother.
All content © Rob Smith