Where was I?
I was running with scissors to save Behemoth from shorts.
But I'm not there yet... First I have to explain something.
Behemoth and I are brothers. He's the cool one.
|Behemoth, aka "the cool one."|
How am I supposed to teach my brother anything if I can't beat him up when he makes a mistake?
Answer: I don't. I stay the hell out of his way, is what I do.
But, we're friends. Despite my never being able to teach him anything via the route of physical abuse, we have been endeared to each other in many ways.
One of the events that resulted in our close, brotherly kinship that neither of us is quite willing to call "love" I will endeavor to relate to you here.
It is an episode of our mutual lives that I like to call:
In which I Run with Scissors to Save Behemoth from Shorts
But you knew that already.
Well, you should know that, despite Behemoth being the "cool" one, as youngsters neither of us kept up with the most recent fashion trends. Actually, whenever possible, we would use last year's clothes!!!!
Okay, yeah, I still do that.
I'mma geek, I can if I want. -_-
Moving on... One spring day we were hauling out last summer's clothes to see what still fit and what was garbajo. (That's pronounced Garr-Bay-Hoe... my word for "garbage" ... and it has nothing to do with Jorge Garbajosa, who I didn't even know existed until I did a google on "garbajo" to make sure it wasn't slang for something horrible like baby-panda-slapping or anything like that that has no place in my blog.)
It wasn't long before Behemoth found himself by a tub of clothes, looking for anything he could salvage.
|Behemoth and the Clothes, happy together in the living room.|
"I remember these!" He said, "I wore these every day last summer!"
The saddest part about his exclamation is that (at that time he was VERY young) he may very well have wore them every single day last summer. :\ Either that or the fact that he was surprised he remembered a garment from a mere nine months ago. How bad WAS his memory?
Sorry... I'm digressing again...
The important thing is that Behemoth found his shorts.
He danced off to the bathroom to try them on, and see if they still fit.
Okay, I lie. He didn't "dance" off to the bathroom. Even then he was too cool to "dance off to the bathroom."
I think it's one of the immutable laws of nature that no one can simultaneously be cool and "dance off to the bathroom." Though, one can be a geek and "skip to their loo," which I do on a fairly frequent basis.
Anyway. I continued searching for good clothes.
|Wow! I LOVE these things!|
After a decent amount of time, I forgot about Behemoth, and didn't realize that he had never come back from the bathroom.
Non-returnance (it's a neology, run with it) from the bathroom bodes only for evil.
Shortly thereafter I heard a small voice from the direction of the lavatory.
"Rafe... hey, Rafe!"
"Yeah?" I answered.
"You remember those shorts?"
"Well..." He paused. He gulped, "Well, I got them On."
I blinked a couple of times.
"You don't know how sorry I am for you right now."
Talk about TIGHTY whities... only the shorts weren't white... but you get the idea.
"Rafe, can you get me scissors or something, I just gotta get these off."
"Yes! I shall assist ye, my too big little brother!"
I darted off. I got scissors. I darted back.
"Um, Rafe... what are you doing?" She asked.
"I'm running with scissors to save behemoth from his shorts!" I shouted.
*Sigh* I sighed. I quickly explained the horrible situation in which Behemoth had found himself.
"Okay," She looked concerned, "Just make sure he's careful what he cuts..."
I think we suddenly shared a mutual horrible thought.
|Our horrible thought.|
Thankfully, for everyone involved, he did NOT cut anything important.
The shorts became garbajo, Behemoth became a big, cool, deep-voiced man, and all the girls love him. (I'm actually kind of jealous...)
Anywho... that's... that.
Go do some evil!