David the Grill Master

My brother, David (5 years my junior and the youngest) is having a Super Bowl Party that I wasn't invited to! He's grilling/smoking/roasting any and every animal you're legally able to eat in southern Kansas. And yes, the picture above it the "official" invite picture from Facebook. It's ok David, I wouldn't have made the 4 hour round trip anyway...

David is the only Derka-Derka kid to have a certified "red-neck" gene. He hunts, fishes, noodles and actually thinks his wall mounted buck head (11 points) is Classy. We are not really sure where this gene came from. But, you can image that he and I clashed growing up. In fact, the fights he and I engaged in (both verbal and physical) were pretty legendary growing up. He was a biter and I was a slapper.

My parents had zero tolerance for us kids fighting or being rude/mean to one another. I called David a butt head once and I got my mouth washed out with soap. BUTT. HEAD. The way my parents reacted you would have thought I had called him a cock-sucking, mother-fucking bastard. I put up a good fight against getting my mouth washed, though. I don't know if you guys know this or not, but I can be real stubborn. I shouted claims of injustice towards me and physically refused to open my mouth once the soap got too close to me.

I remember these steps outside of the Pink Bathroom (all bathrooms in our house had names) that I would throw myself on and scream and cry, but, my mom would just drag my sorry ass back into the bathroom and try to get the soap in my mouth. Eventually, she won with her "Don't make me get your father...." card.

Anyway, back to David. David is responsible for my family nickname (which I am still called to this very day): Twa. Yup - Twa. Growing up, he couldn't say Natasha, it came out more like "Na-twa-twa." No one has to point out what word that is DANGEROUSLY CLOSE to being.

Thanks David. It appears that you have won.