A nice yummy repost.
I love my little brother, K (abbreviation for anonymity). He was born when I was 15 and I've always felt rather responsble for him. I've changed his nappies, bathed him, taken him out in the pram on my paper-round, took him to see Sheffield Wednesday, everything.

However, the poor fella has taken on a family trait in the form of complete gullibility. This is compounded by the fact that since I've been a figure of authority ever since he was knee high to a grasshopper, he's always trusted anything I've said.

So, picture the scene.

It's K's 11th birthday, and he's very excited.

He's getting into music, and loves bands like The White Stripes and the Arctic Monkeys, and spends a lot of the time jumping round the house to their latest chart-toppers.

So, during a pre-visit phonecall I tell him for his birthday that I've got him a special present (as well as the FC Koln shirt that I fetched from a trip abroad). Something that he'll cherish for ever, and will last him a lifetime.

I tell him, that I've got him a guitar. Not just any guitar...

You can tell where this is going.

I spin round to my mum's house, and upon arrival I can see my dear sibling bouncing up and down with excitment in the front room.

K is practically having an epileptic fit when I get in doors... "where is it, where is it?"...

So, I give him the car keys, say "it's in the boot", and watch him sprint off with glee to my car, pop open the boot and...

There's nothing there.

Well by this point I'm in stitches. My ma's cottoned on what's happening and trying not to laugh. K's look was a combination of puzzlement and disappointment. Something was not right.

Of course, I'd bought him... a brand new Air Guitar!

I walked up to the car, asked what was wrong, K said he couldn't see anything despite me explaining that it was right in front of him.

The poor sod hadn't got a clue what was going on. In fact, when I explained what an air guitar was, that he didn't have to learn to play it, and he could take it anywhere he wanted and not break it, he was in tears.

Yes, I'd ruined my little brother's birthday.

Cue 11 years of carefully fostered trust, understanding and brotherly love thrown out of the window for a silly prank.

The fact that me, my other brother and my mum were laughing so hard we were in danger of ruining our underwear didn't help matters, neither did the fact that thunder and lightning started, ruining his hopes of going out on his new bike from his estranged dad.

The poor kid. Barely into double figures, and now the realisation that life is actually quite shit was hitting him quite hard on the very day he should be celebrating his existence. I'm surprised he didn't break into his mum's make-up box, get out the eyeliner and turn into a Goth right there and then.

So since then, instead of the automatic hug, cup of tea and biscuit presentation I get when I go round my mum's now, I get a scowl, a frown and a 'what do you want'? I like to think that this is his hormones kicking in, but we both really know it was down to that pristine air guitar still waiting to be used.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:22, 1 reply)

that is fucking vicious, dude!
what did he do to deserve that?

im buying my brother a new Danelectro so as he can live his rock 'n' roll dreams after years of playing the accoustic I gave him. I'm going to heaven, me. You - straight to Hull.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Tue 26 Aug 2008, 16:55, closed)