Tuesday, October 18, 2011

A story my little brother wrote.....

Growing up in a house with three older brothers was impulsively fun . As boys we were always up to no good finding anything on our minds to have fun. Most of the time our parent’s were gone having my oldest brother watch us, but just like us he would let his boredom conquer him and we’d all be doing the same stuff. One of our minor mischief’s include my brother and I and a bag of brand new clothes my mother had just gotten. My brother and i were doing the same thing we always do right before we do something dumb. . . . . being bored. We were sitting there watching T.V. when all of a sudden a ball of clothes hit me in the face. I grabbed the nearest bag and started throwing it at him when i got hit with another bag at the same time. I grabbed two bags and tossed them and before i knew it we were in an all out war.

After about twenty-minutes we began to tire ourselves out. We had done everything we wanted to do with the bags. The entertainment value on the bags were very low. Since we were young our idea of fun were very low and entertained us for minimal moments. My older brother’s were wiser and older then us, so when it came to ideas of fun they had the best as a kid. My oldest brother was a genius and would think of the most choatic things. One time when we used all of our notebooks at the end of the school year to make a whole bunch of paper planes in our room. On the count of three we started throwing them everywhere. The way we started out throwing them was, my oldest brother and I were on the floor and my third oldest was sitting on a dresser and my other brother was on a bunk bed. It was a room of flying paper airplanes, it was like a dream. There was another time when he got on top of my mom’s dresser which was lika sky scrapper to us at the time, then he jumped up and rolled in the air and landed on my mom’s bed. He landed and got up and started laughing, after that me and the rest of my brothers where fighting to be the next one to jump.

It was like once one of us did something, we all did. We followed each other into everything and everywhere. The trouble part was always what kept us on edge getting away with it was the best, and getting caught was the worst. I remember when ever we got into trouble my dad would come into the room and say sedately “So ...who did it” after that we had all turned into P.O.W.’s we weren’t saying anything because we already knew the worse was gonna happen, we had misbehaved, we knew we might all end up with a beating “he-he” my brother chuckled. Then afterwards we would all laugh about it saying “NO!” “Ha-Ha” “No you were scared.” We had a lot of fun adventures in so many days, every walk to school was such a great taste of the young life, taking short-cuts threw alleys, going through a friends backyard, hopping fences to run from dogs. Every crazy brained schemed idea was a childhood memory, and now I’m eighteen and my brothers are much older then I am so they have lives that they must attend to, and for no reason do i blame them for that, it’s just when I'm lonely and bored in my house my brothers are no longer there to come up with these “ Crazy brained schemey ideas.” Moral of the story cherish every moment with the people you love because you think they’ll be there forever but they won’t and sometimes can’t.

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