Teach Them A Lesson

Lesson 2: You Get Humiliated Unlike A Delinquet

There are a lot of ways I picture to start my morning. Opening your beautiful eyes in this beautiful city, then the warm sunlight, coming through the window, will shine on your face, making your pale face look a strange but stunning yellow. Then you’d sit up and stretch out your arms, showing off your slim body and smooth arms.

 But, of course, that wouldn’t happen to me.

I woke up with the sound of Luke banging my door and my alarm clock ringing loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood. I sat up, groggily and opened the door. Still half-asleep, I grabbed the towel off the table and stomped towards the bathroom. There wasn’t any use of the mirror since I always looked like a zombie, so I quickly hopped on the shower.

Luke was shouting at me to hurry up or else he’d have to “drag that lazy, spoiled ass, down the staircase, making sure that my ass hits all the steps so that it would know something 'magnificent' called exercise”. When I got in the kitchen, Luke was scuffing down the cupcake mom had brought from her café yesterday.

My mom is a chef. She works in one of the most prestigious hotels in the country. Me, Luke and my older brothers never had any problem with food because mom was always there. I guess that all these boys were lucky enough to have someone like Mom as a mother. When I was a small kid, my brothers used to call Mom while she was on work and tell her the list of all the things that was to be brought that night since it would be a "movie night". Mom always gave in to whatever they wanted unless you pressurize her too much, which, in my brother's case was at least once a week.

Speaking of the devil, Mom came in the kitchen hopping on her pink slippers. My mother was a type of person who is always a hyper - like the kids who just had too much sugar-drinks or ate too many cotton candies.

As she walked towards the table we were seated on, balancing two plates overflowing with creamed muffins, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She was wearing a pink robe over her body with her hair still wet from the shower. That wasn’t what made me laugh though. Mom was wearing baby pink pajamas under her robe while carrying the pink muffins. I have to say it had a great combo. She was such a huge fan of the color pink, it almost made me sick. I mean, red was fine, but pink?

Geez, I’ll pass.

As I was laughing quietly to myself after mom threw me a disapproving glare, and Luke finally seemed to catch on.

Here’s the thing about Luke and almost all of my brothers, they loved making fun. Not like let’s-goof-around-for-some-few-minutes jokes but let’s-make-the-rest-of-his-life-hell-teasing-about-it kind of jokes. And trust me, it has happened to me a lot of times.

There was this time when I was seven or eight, our neighbor Mrs. Maxfield’s cat climbed a tree and was unable to get down. My brothers, somehow convinced me that if I was able to help the cat get down, Santa would get me a lot presents in Christmas. So me being the idiot, climbed that tree to rescue the cat. It didn't end well.

The only good thing that came out of that incident was that Mrs. Maxfield’s cat did survive, though it wasn't from my effort. A branch that I was hanging on gave away, before I reached my supposed destination, and I fell face-down on the muddy ground. I had to sit inside the house with a plaster on my hand for the rest of the Christmas holidays. But I did get more presents during that Christmas from Santa that year. To think about it now, I got a huge Pooh doll. I smiled involuntarily, Mom and Dad must have had pretty hard time finding that for me.

Right now, Luke’s face was alight with amusement as he looked at mom’s attire.

“Is there a Barbie show somewhere, that I’m not aware of?” he asked as I helped myself towards the muffins. Yum.