My third brother, Bob, came into town last night. He showed up at the door wearing what could only be described as a dress. He said it was a Kaoptaria that he picked up when he was in New Zealand last year. I didn’t believe him.
I should point out that I have not seen Bob in nearly 17 years. I don’t talk about him to anyone. Unless you have known me over 15 years, you have not heard about Bob from me. I only bring it up now because I think he will be around for a while I wanted to get the word out now before he did.
Bob and I had a falling out about 18 years ago. I had to do with a girl. It always did. Bob was always the ladies man and I, well, I wasn’t. I had been dating this girl named Lisa Promalleckr (Greek and Polish, I think). Lisa and I were hitting it off in the way that high school freshmen do when Bob showed up. ‘Hey there, how’s it hanging!’ And that was the beginning of the end.
Lisa was a sweet girl who had a slight problem. Her earlobes were large. Her nickname in primary school was Dumbo. She immediately thought that Bob was talking to her. She stormed out leaving me with my brother and a libido in over drive. I tried to explain what he had done, but he didn’t care. He never did. I called Lisa five or six times, but she never called back. If it weren’t for the fact that my mother begged me to stay close to Bob, I would have cut ties right then and there.
Bob parlayed his little performance into a date with Lisa so he could ‘apologize’. He apologized alright. In the car, on the couch, and in the McPlayground at the McDonalds on Madison and San Juan. It’s closed now. Poor Lisa never recovered. The last I head she had been arrested for honking at peoples houses as she drove by…
The worst part was that he never told me what happened. I had to find out about it from my second brother, Eric. Eric is a story for another blog.
The final falling out came about six months later. Bob had a party at the house when my mom and sister were visiting the Holy Lands. I guess they knelt in the wrong place and were taken hostage. The embassy said it was a routine hostage taking, but dad had to drive to capitol city to fill out some paper work. Bob made a few phone calls before I could say ‘Bob is a big fat jerk, the house was awash in beer, girls and desperate guys.
I agreed not to tell mom and dad about the party if Bob let me drink. He smiled and said of course! He even made my first drink for me. Unfortunately he put something in there that made me blackout.
I woke up about 12 hours later in Juarez, Mexico in a hotel room. I was in a bathtub full of ice with ‘Call for help’ written in lipstick on my chest. Damn it if Bob hadn’t driven me to Mexico and stolen my kidneys. As a joke he also took my index finger, the one I use to dial with. I was reduced to poking the phone buttons with my nose. Did you know that Juarez does not have 911 service? 911 connects you the Mexican version of Hooters. Since I was hungry, I ordered some wings and had them delivered. I convinced the delivery man to call a doctor and then I passed out. But not before I finished the wings. Not that it matters, I don’t think they were chicken wings. Now that I think about it, I am pretty sure they were some sort of deep fired cockroach.
It took around six months of pain and waiting to find two new kidneys for me. A quick surgery and I was back on the mend. Bob left, fled if you will, to avoid prosecution. From my father. But now he is back.
The funny thing is that he seems mad at me. You see, in an effort to mend fences, I named I my second son after Bob. It was a nice gesture I thought. What I didn’t realize at the time is that Bob is short for Robert. I named my son William and we call him Bill. Come on, who knows that kind of stuff. I’m a guy for goodness sakes. If it’s not written at the bottom of a beer can, I probably don’t know it.
So my attempt to patch things up has failed. I now have an angry, slightly neurotic older brother staying with me. He tried to make me a drink last night, which I didn’t take. Fool me once… I just hope he doesn’t try to take my livers. I could probably get by with one, but I don’t want to.
There is a picture at the top. Bob is the guy on my left. I’m the little kid in the middle. Eric on my other left. My oldest brother isn’t pictured.
And so it goes.