Monday, October 31, 2011

I Gave My Brother the Finger

   The blog/prank war with my brother has escalated.  It went from front porch bombs and silly phone calls, to a crying session where I later gave him the finger.
    For the first part of this story, please visit my brother here:
    P. S. Today is his birthday!  Happy Birthday, Shane.

    Back to the story of the day; I'll let Shane tell you why I cried.
   After the crying session, I had another prank planned for that very day.  Saturday his wife scheduled a birthday party for him.  She was making fancy chili, and somehow it reminded me of the time a woman claimed she found a finger in her chili!
    So, my brother prepared his spicy soup.  He put sour cream on it and chives, cheese and onions.  It did look nice.  But Cade and I had a VERY DISCREET signal.  When it was the perfect time to give my brother the finger, I would squeeze Cade's arm and say, "Cade, I love you so much."  (Isn't that tricky!)
    Cade took the signal IMMEDIATELY.  "Shane," he said, "do you have any more chairs?"
    "I'm so sorry," my brother said, and strutted away to get more chairs.  That's the thing about my brother--even when he doesn't mean to be cool, he is.  (Like the time his video got over 280,000 views on youtube!)
    I swear he had more friends than anyone in high school because he'd take people on guided tours through the desert.  

He can rock climb.  
He can sing.
He can do almost anything.
He's . . . my brother!

    See, until I was nine we lived in the middle of nowhere.  When you grow up in a tiny mining town you either become epic or . . . ugly.  I don't want to say what happened to me.
    Moving along . . .
    My brother came back, further beautified his food, took a few big bites and then it happened!
    This is what he saw!
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    At first his eyes went wide when he saw the thumb of doom.  I wondered if he realized the deeper symbolism--how I'd cut my thumb in half on a table saw--how we are in a valiant battle now--how I MUST win!
    But then he simply rolled his eyes, pulled out the fake thumb, stuck it on MY PLATE, and licked his dirty finger like it was no big deal.
    That's when things got spicy.  I turned to his sweet wife.  "Oh. My. Gosh," I gasped.  "Look what I found in my food!"
    My sister-in-law turned pale.  "What!"  She believed me!
    And later, when it was time to do the dishes, she didn't even want to touch the thumb to wash it off.  Poor girl--she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.
    "Yes," my brother said later, "if you want to prank someone effectivey, prank my wife."
    "Because we're desensitized."
    "Agreed," he said.  "But wait, I pranked you earlier today and you already got me back.  That doesn't mean it's back to me again . . . does it?"
    "Absolutely," I laughed.  "Don't worry, someday you'll taste success.  Oh wait, you already did, I hid it in your chili."   
    "Oh, really!" he looked like a bull ready to charge.  Now I'm a bit worried.  I think he's going to get me extra good next time.

    Anyway--
    Happy Birthday, Shane.  When you're devising the next prank, I want you to remember how much your little sister loves you.  Have a wonderful day.