I may
not have tons of things to say about my brothers that fall in the awesome
category, but in some instances, they have shared a form of wisdom. Really
random assed wisdom that most likely will never help me out in life (much like math
past the 5th grade) but wisdom none the less.
When I
was 18, I was the last child in the household. At this point both of my
brothers had moved out and I decided the place for the hip kids was sleeping in
the tiny bedroom in the basement. I also thought sleeping on a futon on the
floor was the epitome of cool.
The
setting was late at night, Christmas Eve. I had just fallen into a deep(ish)
sleep, when an odd smell accompanied with a weird shuffling noise brought me
right back to awake. The smell invaded my nose, a smell of garbage mixed with
rotten meat and old beer. The shuffling noise sounded like someone dragging of
carcass around the carpet. I was too terrified to open my eyes, knowing I would
see this:
I know
we’ve all had fears of Death dragging dead hobos through our bedrooms. It’s
really hard to get hobo blood out of the carpets.
Finally I
got the courage to open my eyes and look. Was it Death? No. But I kinda wished
it was. There wasn’t even a hobo! Well technically there was… This is what I
gazed upon:
S was
squatting all gargoyle style in the middle of my floor clutching a beer can
glaring at me. The smell was him. Farting. A lot. My cool tiny basement bedroom
suddenly became an airtight chamber of poisonous gas that didn’t have enough
room to expand.
As I lay
there trying to hold my breath and figure out what the fuck S was doing in my
room squatting on the floor glaring at me, he opened his mouth and let out his
words of wisdom. What were they, you ask? I’m not sure if you’re prepared for
this. Take a deep breath and get ready. This may be the most important piece of
information anyone will ever share with you.
S opened
his slurring mouth, let out a burp, and his words of wisdom were:
If a police officer offers you a ride home, don’t believe
him.
He then
let out one more squeaker fart, and shuffled out of the room.
I would
have preferred the dead hobo. It would have smelled better too.
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