Bloody Story 1987

Page 15

I followed Sam after being awakened with a pillow to the face, "come on", Michael cringes in his sleep, as Sam invades his bedroom from their common bathroom dragging me along through this specific path thanks to the locked door our elder brother provided. "Michael, come on. It's one o'clock already." Sam yanks open the blinds and I sniff watching with a bored interest. "Go away." I blinked, ripping the pillow from under his head just to hear his groan, "You're supposed to watch me and entertain me, and make me appreciate the brief but happy years of childhood." I snorted, "you won't remember any of it."

"Entertain yourself." Michael pulls the covers over his head and I drop the pillow to the floor following a begrudgingly saddened little brother, "dick wad," Sam accompanied by Nanook sneak a peek into Grandpa's taxidermy room once we reach the first floor of the house. He's busy and I'm forced to willingly follow Sam where he pleases, "what do you wanna do?" he shrugs, already bored, "there's nothing to do."

Sam and Nanook check over our grandfathers parked pick up truck in the backyard, it was filled with fencing materials; posts, rails and boards. "Nanook... this is my life: I come from a broken home. My mother works all day. My brother sleeps all day. My sister is no help in curing the boredom that plagues me and my Grandpa, who is possibly an alien, stuffs chipmunks." I rolled my eyes as he finally noticed the large plants next to the truck that just so happened to be positioned behind the back porch in front of the kitchen windows. "Look Samuel, it's marijuana, mary jane, dope, reefer, grass, tea..." He looked at me blankly before knocking my shoulder, "should we?" I scoffed, "Certainly not, leave it to our already drugged up older brother."

"Michael?" I nodded at the questioning tone, "oh yeah, sensitive to light, his stomach was growling, glasses, sleeping, my guess is crack." We looked at each other and nodded simultaneously, "yeah I can see that." I gave a hum and wrapped my arm over his shoulders as we walked up to the porch after I pulled away and pushed his hair to the side, parting it. I watched him walk into the kitchen stealthily as I followed only to see him open a drawer and pull out a box of matches, surprised he even knew where they were. I sat on a kitchen stool and watched as he plucked a leaf from the weed plant that sat outside the open window. He rolls it and is just about to light it when our Grandpa's voice makes him choke and shove it behind his back. I'm on the verge of a laugh as the older man and his rat tail walk to the fridge, opening the door smoothly, "Whatcha doin'?" Sam palms the evidence behind his back and is exasperated, questioning the older man, "Grandpa, stop doin' the Native Walk!" I smile as he grabs the pack of oreos, "Gotta keep in practice. It's a dyin' art." Sam doesn't like the silent sneaking walk, "Good!"