Chicken Little Bro

So I made a joke at my brother’s expense. I wish I could do more things at my brother’s expense. Alas. Anyway, we were discussing his shirt-size so I could buy him a Christmas present and he claimed to be a medium. I immediately declared this as false since I…well…have eyes.

My brother’s a scrawny guy. He’s 19 but he’s about three years younger in general build and demeanor. He was born premature and ever since has been “the little one” as in:

“Hey, which one of those soccer players is Jesse?”

“Oh, he’s the little one.”

“Oh, I see him. Aw, he’s so cute…”



So I tell him that he has the upper body of an 11-year-old boy and GUESS WHAT? The clever little punk says, without skipping a beat, “so do you.” Gasp. How rude, right? Darn these kids and their quick comebacks.

I have never been one for comebacks. I stand, mouth ajar, too shocked by an insulting joke to respond. Though, if the joke’s good, I’ll usually feel some underlying appreciation as all things funny deserve to be acknowledged. He may have crushed that joke Professional-Baseball-Player-Removed-From-The-Hall-Of Fame-For-Using-Steroids style but, to be fair, I lobbed it to him like a teenage boy who throws like a little girl.

I’m gonna buy him an extra-small shirt for Christmas and use my evil laugh when it fits him like a glove.

Dentists and I do not recommend revenge due to it’s overwhelming sweetness.