O Brother!

“Mom, Chris’ kicking me.”
“Now if you two don’t start acting your age, I’ll send both of you to your rooms.”
“Mom,” I whined.
“I’m serious young man. I don’t want to-” Just as she was finishing her sentence . . . “SPLAT!” She was hit in the forehead with a glob of spoon-flung mashed potatoes. “Christopher Allen Wilson!” Mom screamed in rage, “to your room.”
“But . . . ” Chris complained.
“Now!” Mom said without hesitation.
For those of you, who don’t know me, let me introduce myself. My name is Leonard Gregory Wilson the third. Everyone calls me Leo. That is everyone except my great-aunt Edna, she’s one of those relatives that pinches your cheeks at every family reunion. I’m in the seventh grade, get straight A’s, and aspire to be a Broadway star. But, that’s enough about me. Let me tell you a little bit about my older brother Christopher, or Chris as he likes to be called. Chris is seventeen, but acts like he’s three. Every day, or at least it seems like it, he’s in trouble, in fact, the school office has my Dad’s cell phone number on speed dial. It’s never ordinary things that he gets in trouble for. It’s always some random act of goofiness. Once he took one of those rolling garbage cans from the school cafeteria out into the hall and started walking, just to see how long it was before anyone said something. Of course he only got five feet from the cafeteria doors when Mrs. Sinclair, the principal, saw him. She made him call mom and dad to explain why he had did what he did. He’s a sophomore, he’s supposed to be a junior but was held back a year. None of the teachers were very thrilled about having him two years in a row. Let’s get back to the story.
Now where was I? O, I remember. So, Chris went to his room, not like that is really a punishment. Actually, it might even be nice, considering he has his plasma T.V., laptop computer, and cellular phone. Mom and Dad spoil him. The only way they can get him to mind himself is by bribing him. He got the T.V. for sitting through my cousin’s wedding and the laptop for not cussing when my dad’s boss came over for dinner. Here’s the real kicker: he got a cell phone for going through one whole day of school without getting “written up” as they call it. Of course they didn’t know that this was because he hadn’t come to school that day. I’m assuming that would make it quite hard, or should I say impossible, to get in any trouble. I’ve gone my whole school career with straight A’s and I get, let’s see, seven times four is . . . O! Twenty-eight. Yes, that’s right, seven years, four report cards a year, one dollar for every report card makes a total of twenty-eight measly dollars. I could buy a CD, at most.
So, after dinner I retreated to my room to do my stupid algebra homework. It’s not like I’ll ever actually need to use this junk, unless I become some nerdy mathematician or something like that. You’re probably tired of my griping so I’ll shut up and continue. I opened my Algebra book and turned to page 707. Leo Wilson, I wrote at the top of my page along with my class number, today’s date and the assignment. I turned on my piece of junk radio, which was older than I was. As had often happened, I could hear the static mumbles of a phone conversation between my brother and some mystery voice. I couldn’t make out what they were saying but then, suddenly I recognized the mystery voice. I knew I had heard it somewhere before, and it was starting to puzzle me. It wasn’t the fact that I had picked up my brother’s conversation that seemed strange. After all, there’s really a simple explanation for that, my old radio happened to be picking up the same frequencies that his cell phone used. What seemed weird was the familiar voice that I had heard on the other line. I knew I had heard that voice before, I just didn’t know where.
I decided not to worry, that is until an even stranger happening occurred the next day.
* * * * *
“Hey mom, I’m home,” I shouted as I shoved through and slammed shut the back door.
“Leo Wilson, I just don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, shouting and slamming the door like that,” Mom fretted. I ignored her comment and pretended I hadn’t heard her, according to my dad I was good at that. It was Tuesday, cleaning day, so mom was in one of those moods where she went into a cleaning frenzy. I may just be imagining things but mom seemed even more frenzied than normal. If I apologized for my “bad” behavior, she probably wouldn’t be paying enough attention to care.
I was on my way to my room to change into some more comfortable clothes. As I walked past the door to our unfinished basement, I heard a strange noise. There was a screeching or hissing or something of that sort. I figured it was just a mouse who had happened to find it’s way into “the cave,” as our family called it. I was about to walk upstairs to my room, but then, “BANG!” I hear coming from the basement. I decided if anything was going on down there I would be safest in my bedroom, so I ran to my room and changed my clothes. I decided to stay in there for a while, I figured I could practice my lines for our school’s upcoming performance of The Sound of Music. Not to brag, but I did happen to get the biggest male role. Sorry, I’m getting off track.
Okay, so anyway, I’m getting to the part in the play when the Nazis are in the convent. I’m so nervous about the unidentified noises that I’m stuttering, causing my lines to come out like a broken record. Just as the Nazis are about to fire, I hear another, even louder “BANG!” from below. At that point I was about to jump out my window and keep running until my legs couldn’t run another inch. I peeked out the crack in my bedroom door and I saw the knob on the basement door slowly begin to turn. It was turning for what seemed like eternity, which was making my heart thump like a beating drum. The door finally opened, causing my stomach to drop.
“Hey Leo, How ya doing’?”
“Oh, Chris, why were y-“
”Don’t worry about it,” Chris was quick to retort.
“O-Ok,” I stuttered, still worried. I figured I was safe to go downstairs, assuming my dad was home by now. My mom couldn’t protect herself from a ladybug, and I’d be better off alone than with her. I grabbed my CD player and popped in “Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Broadway Hits.” Although it may not be everyone’s favorite music, I like it and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. As I was on my way downstairs, I was almost knocked off my feet by Chris, who was carrying a stack of magazines that looked like the tower of Pisa. Why Chris was carrying a stack of magazines to his room was puzzling, I wouldn’t consider Chris an “avid” reader, by any standards. I caught my balance and continued to the kitchen, where my mom was bustling about like a chicken with her head cut off.
“An eight-letter word for something that is unexpected,” my dad said staring, at a crossword puzzle.
“Surprise, S-U-R-P-R-I-S-E. It is really not that tough,” I said.
“I’m sorry Mr. Smartypants. Sometimes I lose my train of thought,” my dad said as he scribbled in the word.
“Mom, dad, I’m worried,” I said, “Chris’ been acting strange lately.”
“Stay out of your brother’s business,” dad said, “I’ve had enough trouble at the office today. I don’t need to come home to this.” That was what made me decide to take matters into my own hands.
* * * * *
On my way to school the next day I decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell Manuel, our school crossing guard about the strange occurrences. I knew he wouldn’t mind checking things out, and if it turned out that nothing was going on he wouldn’t get mad.
After school I went to drama practice. Meanwhile Manuel, who was on his way home decided it wouldn’t hurt to stop by my house. He had seen that the lights were off, but opened the door anyway. He figured he was good enough friends with the family, who he had known for eleven years.
“SURPRISE!“ He heard as he walked in. Then, “false alarm,” Chris said.
“What’s going on,” Manuel said, completely puzzled.
“That’s what I was about to ask you,” Chris said. “We’ll have time to explain later, but here, you can hide behind the couch. Leo should be here any minute,” Chris said to Manuel, who was as confused as Adam and Eve on Mother’s Day. Get it, Adam and Eve, no mother? Never mind.
Now, here’s where I come back into the story. Drama practice was over and I was on my way home. I walked in the door and “SURPRISE!” Everyone had shouted, glad that it was actually me this time.
I had completely forgotten it was my birthday and everyone tried not to remind me, so I didn’t expect a party. No one remembered to bring up the fact that I had drama after-school, so they figured I would be home on time. When Manuel opened the door, they assumed it was me.
Chris sat down and explained all the things from the last couple of days. He was able to call Patrick Page, my favorite Broadway star, and gotten him to send me an autographed script. What I had heard from the basement was just him blowing up balloons and occasionally popping one. All the magazines he had carried to his room were catalogs. He wanted to get me the perfect gift, which cost him looking for hours through catalogs to find me a collection of every play written by Neil Simon. He is one of my favorite playwrights.
I felt relieved and spent the next month reading Fools, Barefoot in the Park, and The Odd Couple, along with all the rest of Neil Simon’s hilarious comedies. I guess the last couple of days was a comedy, and a pretty funny one at that. I apologized to Chris for assuming he was up to no good and thanked him for one of the best day’s of my life.