MY BROTHER'S FOLLY

August 15th, 12,006 (actual time frame: 5:36PM, Friday; June 27th, 2007)___________________________________________________________________

My brother's room is a disaster in the making. I could not recall the last time Trell actually spent cleaning his room. Mom rarely gets on his case long enough to get him to do anything about it. I do recall the times either she or I strong-armed him to do any cleaning--both of us were subjected to a litany of complaints and mutterings (which lasted the better part of the week) about how he couldn't find anything of stellar importance. (Much like the author of The Starchild. Everytime he cleans up, he can't find anything either! :0P )

Mom would give up on him often; citing that "little boys like him are impossible to deal with."

I tried to reassure her that this wasn't so.

She looks at me sometimes with a curious expression and asks me the obvious.

I said, "Little boys like him get a butt-kicking from me--if they don't toe the family line."

My mother would pat me on the head at times, smile, and even chuckle at my choice of options. She knows that I am just playfully jesting when I threaten physical violence against my brother.

However, there are moments that I wished I wasn't. And this was one of them.

I nearly tripped over some of his shit getting into his room--thanking whatever higher power was upstairs that I didn't die on my way to the corner of my brother's crowded and disheveled workstation.

"Do you ever clean up?" I wanted to bark at him--before I settled down to wring his neck for traversing this dump of his. Instead of that, I scared him badly with a rambunctious: "HEY!"--and caused him to almost electrocute himself in the process.

(Yes, there were some things I enjoyed most of all: That being a big pain in the ass. Sister's perogative and all that.)

Trell accused me of trying to kill him out of spite, but I knew that he was just exaggerating. The crossed voltage wouldn't be permanently damaging.

I told him that dinner was ready and that he should come--but Trell wouldn't come just yet.

Knowing that I got something out of him, I disappeared for a second to go retrieve my pack. I had almost forgotten about it--being so wrapped up in my own past--and the implications that I would eventually uncover from my little brother.

It's odd--as I write this--that I know what will happen, before it happened. But the memories of this day was too strong for me to ignore. There was simply too much anguish and pain to be had.

But I came back and gave him his power convertor. Overjoyment isn't what I had in mind when he jumped up suddenly and grabbed me in a crushing bear hug! (For a second there, I swore I saw my life flash before me! I couldn't believe that my scrawny fence-post of a brother had that much strength in him!)

"Oxygen!" I recalled croaking out. "Oxygen!" When that didn't work, I began smacking Trell on the head.

I was close to passing out from the lack of it and being dizzy all that the same time. I accused him of trying to kill me, but Trell feigned innocence. I really wanted to kill him myself, but I decided to let it pass and get the two of us to dinner.

Trell refused and I threatened to kick his butt right then and there.

I asked him how long it would be before he keeled over from a lack of food. His deflection of the subject suggested something else. Something which I later kicked myself mentally for: I had left a spare box of rations in the laundry room--within easy reach for anyone to get into; should they want something to mosh on.

But I never knew that my own flesh and blood would take the entire box and eat it!

He said two words and I just about lost it: "Energy rations."

Correction: I did lose it!

On him!

Oh, I railed against him for a few seconds before cooler heads prevailed. Then I started doing some damage control on the situation by asking him all sorts of questions. Trell answered them in kind, but I could tell that--by some further grilling--that he was scared.

My brother believed that he somehow killed himself--or he was in mortal danger of dying.

(Judging by how many wrappers were on the floor during my search of his room later on--I was surprised that he hadn't kicked off yet.)

I tried to reassure him that he would be fine.

But I was certain that my mom would be wanting a piece of him at any rate.

Once she found out what he had gone and done.

-Isis