| Hello, this is my first rant and it's about my brother. This little fucker pissed on the floor. This isn't the only thing he's done in the past week to piss me off (no pun intended) either. So I'll start with this. I was sitting here, alone downstairs, parents gone, lazy-ass siblings in bed. My brother comes down and gets in the shower. I think nothing more of it. A few minutes later, my sister comes down. "Um, Adam, there's a trail of wet footprints in the hallway." Piss. It's piss. It goes from our room, down the hall, down the steps, into the kitchen and into the bathroom. So he gets out of the shower and I immediately tell him to call our mother at work. He goes upstairs and does so, and she tells him to clean it up. So he gets a towel and goes upstairs and soaks up all the fucking piss all over the carpet in our room. My mom calls a few minutes later and talks to him, then I talk to her. She says 'why are you making fun of your brother?' THAT LITTLE FUCKING SON OF A BITCH. I calmly explain 'I'm not making fun of him, I'm just yelling at him because I'm mad.' 'But he said he cleaned it all up.' That was it. After we got off the phone, I went upstairs (careful not to step in anything). The cleaning stuff is in a pile in the hall and he is locked in our room, the piss still all over. Words cannot explain how I felt at that point. While I was yelling it was all I could do to keep from turning Angfest into Bloodfest. I was really starting to consider contributing blood to his bodily fluids on the floor. So at last he finished cleaning. I was online talking to people and they're like 'calm down man.' FUCK THAT, THE LITTLE BASTARD HAS BEEN PISSING ME OFF ALL FUCKING WEEK. THIS IS SIMPLY THE STRAW THAT BROKE THE CAMEL'S BACK. I'll start with this. We were at a car show a few days ago, and it was really really hot out. So we went back to the car and got out those folding chairs to rest for a while. There are two of them with arms. My borhter and sister sat in those and I got stuck with a regular one. Not such a big deal. My brother got up and walked over to ask my dad a question. He got up and I got up jokingly sat down. He comes over and tells me to move. I can handle that. Then he goes to me 'nevermind, you can sit there.' So I stayed. He goes over to talk to my dad, then comes back and goes 'okay, you can move now.' No, you said I can sit here. It sounds stupid writing this, that we fought over a chair. I guess it was, tell that to him. He hit me. If he had asked kindly 'Adam, could you please move,' I would have considered it. But the way he said it, and the fact that he hit me, I wasn't going to do anything for the little bastard. So he went around the back and start rocking the chair. I yelled at him. My sister yelled at him. My father yelled at him. He refused to stop. Finally he succeeded in tipping the chair over. I got up and was ready to kill him. But I didn't. I didn't want to hit him and embarass him in front of people like he had done to me. UNTIL we were getting ready to go meat my mom (she was bringing food) and I got up and saw somebody I knew. She'd seen the whole thing. I was ready to drag that little fucker to the burnout area and throw him in front of one of those cars doing 80. The night before, we were downstairs watching tv. I didn't want to watch the shit they watch, besides it was Friday night and I hadn't lifted yet. So I got up and started to leave, and my brother goes 'what do you want to watch?' and I simply reply 'nothing, I'm going upstairs to exercise.' 'OH NO YOUR NOT!' That little bitch jumped up and sprinted to the stairs, PUSHING ME INTO THE WALL ON THE WAY, ran up to our room and locked me out. So I got the key to our room and went up stairs. First I knocked on the door to see if we peacefully negotiate. He refused, so I started to unlock the door. Well, the fucker was holding the lock on the other side. Anyone who knows about gear ratios and the laws of simple machines knows that even though he's weaker than me, since the lock on the other side is larger than the keyhole I can't open it unless I'm as strong as the the ratio of the lock (if you don't know what I mean, go ask a science teacher) is to him (apparently I am, because eventually I DID get it open). So I said to him, partly trying to get him to give up, partly because I did, 'that's okay, I brought a backup plan with me (screwdriver, I was going to take the doorknob off the door).' And he said 'no you don't, you're too dumb to have a backup plan.' I grabbed the key and put it in, and started to unlock the door. He was holding the lock again. I showed that son of a bitch. I unlocked the door, even though we he was holding it, threw open the door and pinned that fucker against the wall. So I yelled at him and he went downstairs crying and got yelled at even more. Serves him right, the little fucktard. So, in conclusion, my brother is a spoiled brat. I'll give advice to all the only-child/youngest kids reading this. If your mom ever gets pregnant for a younger one, get yourself arrested and put in a foster home. It will be worth it. And don't be surprised it sometime in the near future you turn on the news and hear 'teenager arrested for murdering his brother with a baseball bat.' Note: Everything expressed here is my opinion only. It should NOT be taken seriously. Reproduction and/or distribution of this, as well as everything else on this site, without permission from me makes you an asshole. |
| You're nine YEARS old, not MONTHS-August 12th, 2003 |