I’m agitated. I’ve been distraught lately. You would think that, coming home for Christmas Break, it would be all bubbles and stubbles, but it’s not. It’s been hell.
See, there’s been something weighing on my mind. It has to deal with my brother, Bryce. Bryce is a great guy. He’s funny, intelligent, and a great kisser. I mean… has black hair. (ahem) Anyway, that is why this is such a hard post to write, and I’ve put if off for as long as I could.
Let me set it up. Last weekend Megan and I came to Big Stone to help my father move stuff into our new upstairs. My mother has had this dream addition for years. I had never pictured it ever happening, because my mom has grandiose dreams and little motivation to realize them. My brother literally pictured himself married, with children, before coming home to enjoy the addition.
Well, ladies and gents, the dream is realized. This itself poses fundamental problems of happiness, but I won’t get into them here. The majority of the work is done. It’s quite a livable space now. Soon Bryce can move into my parent’s old bedroom and I’ll have the bunk beds all to myself. That’s right; I said “bunk beds”.
So, in between moving the largest most complex entertainment center ever and listening to my mother say, “Well, it didn’t look that yellow in the can,” we managed to escape the house with Tony. We were looking for a copy of Amadeus because if Megan watched it and wrote some things about it, she would get extra credit in her Music class. The movie was nowhere to be found. The most helpful comment we got from the different movie rental establishments that we visited was, “Why do you want a stupid movie about Beethoven?”
Stoners are so funny.
Driving back in failure, Tony says, “Hey, Miles. Remember when I said that Bryce and I have had a bad semester?”
“Well, … let me put it this way. Bryce doesn’t have a major yet, but he has a minor.”
What? You heard right. My brother got a minor. As in “a Minor in possession of alcohol”. As in a fine, a ticket, jail time, execution. This was quite the shock. My brother… sure he was the black sheep, but I had no idea how dark his coat was.
The best part was yet to come. We finally found a copy of the bloody movie. My mom knew someone whose son loved the movie and they lent us their copy. So, we were sitting there, about to start watching the movie, eating food, when the phone rings.
Tony answers the phone, and I can hear his side of things. “Hello Rausches. … Hey, how did you know it was me? … Like, now? … Okay, here’s your brother.” And Tony hands me the phone. My conversation with my brother confirmed that he was planning on telling them right now. He asks to speak to mom.
I hand the phone to mom. I can hear her side of things. “Hello? … Hi. … What do you mean ‘bad news’? … What?! … Ha, ha, very funny. Lindsey better not be pregnant. … You know what? I don’t want to know. Here’s your father.” Mom, unable to bear the news that was soon to come, passes the phone off on my dad, who actually was in the bathroom at the time.
She comes back asking me and Tony what the phone call is about because Bryce couldn’t tell her. She tells us, “He said, ‘Bad news. Lindsey is pregnant. No, I’m just kidding.’ What a shithead.”
We decided to watch the movie as Bryce tells my dad in the bathroom the whole story. We hear some yelling, but just a little, and then a lot of talking. We watch the movie and things go on. They are both a bit disappointed in my brother, and my mom turns a wary eye towards me, as if to say, “Well, if Bryce got caught once, how many times have you not gotten caught?”
It’s true. I’m better at getting away with things then Bryce is.
This whole thing, though, is not what I’m angry about. It’s about what happened when I wasn’t home. Bryce came back to Big Stone a couple days before I did because of how his test situation turned out.
I get here to realize that Bryce has already turned the Minor into a joke. A whole joke concept that I was left out of the loop on. He does this, he slips the word “minor” into a sentence.
It’s a minor setback.
That’s quite a minor chord.
A man who digs in the ground is a minor.
Think of all the “minor” puns I could have used? Think of all the funniness that there could have been! I feel slighted. I should have known from Tony’s introductory joke, those days ago, that this sort of thing would happen.
So, to make up for things, here is my minor list.
- Make a minor change.
- That’s a minor problem.
- It’s a minor setback.
- That’s quite a minor chord.
- If you throw a piano down a mine shaft, I’ll show you A-flat Minor.
- A psychic was involved in a minor collision downtown. She had an auto-body experience.
Ok, those last two weren’t mine especially. I realized that, in the heat and anger of my typing, I had forgotten all the good ones that I had come up with or heard. But the rest were minor. Hehehe. I crack me up.