My siblings are pretty awesome. I have great stories (and dirt) on all of them. It's fair to assume that they each have more dirt on me, however. I mean, I did some mean sh!t growing up. I was not always the sweet and gentle creature you all have come to know and love today. For those who've been keeping track, I've got the older sis in North Carolina and 2 younger bros, both 2 hours away in college. They were all smart enough to escape from the grips of guilt-trip dripping visits to mom & dad's house... but I digress....
I'm gonna talk about Daniel today. Daniel is 3 years my junior and, in a word, rocks. He's fuck-off smart, funny and doesn't give two shits this side of Tuesday. Some of my favorite memories of Daniel growing up are of him ALWAYS standing up to take the blame for any unsolved mysteries in our house. Was something broken/missing/ruined/lost/shaved/shredded/spilt? In the not-so-rare cases of mom & dad NOT figuring out who did it coupled with no one owning up to it, Daniel would sacrifice himself just to "get it over with." I'm not sure if this was out of sibling solidarity or him just REALLY hating the interrogation process. Either way, when the 4 of us were rounded up and pressed for details, Daniel would sigh, roll his eyes and step forward. Most of the time he couldn't even give mom or dad details on HOW he ruined or broke something (probably because he DID NOT DO IT) but they didn't care. They just needed a lamb to slaughter.
Daniel, I have a confession, brother- it may not come as a surprise.... but 96% of the time... it was me. I did it. I did it and I had NO QUALMS watching you take the fall. Sure, there was a momentary "This isn't 100% fair" feeling in the pit of my stomach, but that was instantly dissolved when the "You got away with ruining the curtains!" endorphins kicked in.
Please do not kick the shit out of me.
Or, actually, please don't ever to THIS to me.
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