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The curious incedent of the dead dog.

I give up, I’ll admit to it. I’m sick. I have a cold or something. I tried to get myself to believe it was allergies, it was my new vials and I was having a bad reaction. Nope, I’m sick.

I was writing about when I met et_blackbird but I just don’t have the concentration to do it the justice I desire. I have the time to write so I give you yet another brother story.

I was living at home with my parents and brother and working at Knott’s Berry Farm. I suffered the humiliation of dressing up like a mariachi with a name tag to sell overpriced T-shirts and souvenirs to the park goers in Fiesta Village. At least I got to eat all the sour patch kids my mouth could handle.

On this particular minimum wage hell day, my parents were out of the state. My mom’s little yapper dog wasn’t feeling well. Before running to work I decided to check on him again and bring a fresh bowl of water to him in his bed. He wasn’t going to be drinking any of it. I stood there in my work clothes over his body, I knew he was dead, and gave him a pat on the head, Partially for comfort, but mostly to make sure he really was dead. No movement. I had to go to work, no time to deal with a dead dog. My brother didn’t have a job so on my way out the door told him the dog was dead and asked for him to take care of him.

It was a long day at work, I drove home, pulled into the driveway and bright lights engulfed the car. A police car had pulled up behind me. I looked to the house and saw a party going on. I was in no mood for this. I got out of my car and started to walk to the house away from the police.

“Excuse me,” the officer said stopping me. I turned around.
“Is this your party? Do you live here?” he asked.
I was tired, it was midnight, I wanted to go to bed, I didn’t want to deal with this officer and I didn’t want to deal with the party. I wanted to brush my teeth and go to sleep. “I am dressed like a goddamn mariachi... I have a name tag on... Do you really think this is my party.” I wasn’t letting him say a word to me. “I just got off work, This is my home but this isn’t my party. I want to go to bed. Please go on and break up the party.” I had said my peace, I was waiting for the officer to walk past me and make my dreams come true, but he didn’t move a inch further onto the property.
“Ok then... Just close the front door so people don’t complain about the noise, alright.”
I’m sure I was doing the best impression of Ferris Bueller's pissed off sister at this point. “Sure,” I stomped away, as the officer returned to his car and drove off.

I had a few choice words with my brother after I closed the door behind me. I could sleep through this noise, I had slept through louder parties in the past, so I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. It was occupied. I waited a few minutes before I had enough and began to bang on the door and threaten the two girls inside. Eventually they emerged and I had a false idea that I was finally going to have something go right. I grabbed my tooth brush and froze. I stood there in pure disbelief. I just wanted to brush my teeth and go to bed, and my toothbrush was wet. I threw it in the trash and cursed those girls although it could have been anyone at the party who used my toothbrush for whatever they did with it.

I went to bed and tried to sleep. When I got up the next morning I found the dead dog was still in the house. My brother didn’t take care of him. In fact my brother had used the dog for entertainment during his party. There was a girl there that he didn’t like. She was dating one of his friends and she was quite drunk as well as stupid. My brother has been watching her pet the dog for several minutes waiting with a smile on hi face for the perfect moment. She picked up the dog and continued to pet him. “Oh poor doggie, he’s so tired he’s not waking up.” Now that she said those words, he finally had his moment, “That’s because he’s dead.”

Lullabye - Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting

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Comments

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
singleentendre
Oct. 22nd, 2005 09:09 am (UTC)
I hope that girl's good-looking for her own sake
How could anyone pick up a rigor-mortified room temperature dog and not realize something was amiss?
sisyphus238
Oct. 22nd, 2005 09:49 pm (UTC)
That story's just asking for a television treatment or short subject.
nytfall
Oct. 23rd, 2005 10:08 am (UTC)
OMG! I don't know if I will cry for your dead dog or laugh at your brother's joke, and his stupid GF.

Well, at first I was feeling sorry for the dog... then I almost laughed at your brothers stupid joke.
ewe_2
Oct. 24th, 2005 02:28 pm (UTC)
I believe your brother was spawned by the devil. LOL

;-)

Is there a good thing you can write about him? That's a challenge Monkey

:-)

D
monkeyx3
Oct. 24th, 2005 04:04 pm (UTC)
Yes, but every story with my brother has a part to it that isn't good.

http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=macboysf&itemid=180082
ewe_2
Oct. 24th, 2005 05:13 pm (UTC)
How did I miss that? I must be slipping. I might have been in Cabos to my nephew's wedding when you posted the story. It is great a great story and I have a new found respect for him.

I while back you posted something it to the fact you were looking for a fight. Was that the repressed violent gene coming out like your brother? If I was in a fight I would certainly want you and your brother next to me

:-)

D
et_blackbird
Oct. 27th, 2005 06:08 pm (UTC)
If I was in a fight I would certainly want you and your brother next to me

I'll second that!
et_blackbird
Oct. 27th, 2005 06:07 pm (UTC)
This story is like something out of a black comedy. I mean, really, did he have no compassion at all for your mother and how she'd feel about it?

You're amazing and wonderful for forgiving him all those times.

The toothbrush incident... *shudders* Major violation of personal space. And the cop? Bloody useless. I thought American police officers were supposed to be tough and uncompromising!
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )