Monday, October 19, 2009

Memoir Monday: Mom! RUN!

(Folks, I am gonna try to start something here with this Memoir Monday business. I made a button, and I want you all to start telling your own Memoir Monday stories. I don't care if your blog is already a story telling blog. Stick this button on your site on your Monday posts, and make me very happy! Qualifications for Memoir Monday is that it must be true. That's all. If you use the button, make sure that you send me a message so I can link your post to this one! We're gonna get this going! Thank you! Just copy this HTML code and paste it into the Edit HTML tab of your blog.) 





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I have told you some stories about my younger brother, The Groom. I call him The Groom because he just recently got married. One day, I suppose I'll make a new name for him. As of now, though, he's The Groom.

He's also a doucher.

This is why.

One night, I was outside shooting hoops. It was relatively dark, but we had a street light outside that lit up the court enough for me to see. I was around 18 at the time.

My dear sweet mother was outside gathering laundry from the clothesline. It was a normal night, and all was well.

I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. I have always had pretty good vision. I can't hear, and I've essentially burned all the taste buds out of my mouth with various kinds of hot peppers and sauces, so really, vision is all I have left.

Someone was around the side of the house.

Someone dressed in a lot of black clothing.

Someone in a mask.

SOMEONE HOLDING A F*CKING GUN!

I was a real trusting person. I had never experienced crime of any kind, and I thought that this was probably just a friend at first. However, when I saw the gun, I went nuts vajay.

I said, "Who are you? What are you doing here? Who are you?! MOM RUN! RUN! RUN!"

And I proceeded to run all the way around the house, pretty much like the biggest pansy you've ever seen in your life.

About this time, I hear laughing. I stop, wondering why anyone would be laughing at a time like this, and turn around. Upon turning around, I see The Groom, sans ski mask, standing there with his BB pistol, laughing like he'd just been told the funniest joke ever.

My mom? She never stopped taking clothes down.

I walked inside, and I grabbed the keys to my truck.My mom had made it back to the porch by then, and I stormed out of the house with my keys, she asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to kill your son."

I got in my truck, gunned it, and I chased The Groom down the block. I'm gonna give him credit, he's pretty agile. After realizing that I couldn't run him down, I gave up for the time being. I was mad for days. However, it once again proved that I am not any kind of hero at all.

I can only hope that having kids changes all that.

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