Siblings can be hard on one another. Pranks may play a significant part in their life together.

 

One may dominate the other in torturous ways, causing the other to employ an . . .

 

 

Undercover Cop

 

     The evening was cold and dreary. I could hear the sound of rain on the roof. I fidgeted, as I sat on the living room couch. And then . . .

     “It’s alive,” I screamed.

     “What’s alive, Peter?” Jackson asked.

     “The thing,” I replied.

     “The thing?”

     “Yeah, the thing. It fell out of my book onto my lap and then crawled down the side of the sofa.”

     Jackson rolled out of the plush leather armchair to the right of the sofa. “Which side of the couch?” he inquired.

     “That side.”

     He dragged his tired body passed me to the left side of the sofa and bent down. “Don’t know what you saw, but there’s nothing there.”

     “But it’s got to be there. It crawled across the cushion and over the left arm of the couch.”

     “Well, it must have been a bug of some kind. It’s gone now. So let’s just go to bed.”

     “Ugh, a bug—a slimy insect. I hate bugs. They’re yucky. They terrify me—creep me out.”

     ‘“Hell, you’re not going to die from a stupid little bug crawling over you.”

     “How do you know?”

     “I know little brother. I am wise beyond my nineteen years,” he stated, while laughing right in my face.

     Jackson is my older brother, by one year. He has taken care of me, whether I like it or not. Sometimes he can be a real pain in the ass. But tonight he probably was right. So I grabbed my book, Spider-man’s Revenge, and followed him down the hall to our respective bedrooms.

     He and I share a small two-bedroom house, owned by our parents, on the east side of town. We attend Paramount Community College. I’m a Psych major and Jackson, well, he’s still searching. Says he has plenty of time to decide what he wants to be when he grows up. That is, if he ever grows up. 

     The grandfather clock in the hallway struck midnight, the signal telling me I should have been in bed an hour ago, because I needed to be on campus at eight o’clock sharp. So I wiped thoughts of my wonderful big brother out of my mind and got ready for bed.

     After washing up in the bathroom, I went into my bedroom, put on my pajamas, and shuffled over to the bed. As I pulled back the covers, I let out a loud scream. For there, under the blankets, lay a picture of the ugliest insect I’d ever seen. This turn of events pissed me off. I raced out of my room and down the hall to Jackson’s hideaway, yelling at the top of my lungs, “You idiot! You unfeeling, uncaring jerk!”

     I crashed through his door. Jackson stood there with a smirk on his face. “I found your bug little bro. Nice pic, don’t you think?”

     I stood there speechless. Nothing I could think of seemed to say what I wanted to say, so I kept my mouth shut. Back in my room, my stomach churned as I thought, I’ll get him. I’m not going to let him get away with this. He’s such a creep.     

     Well, sometimes things just pop into your head when least expected. I chuckled, as a vivid picture of what I needed to do to get back at Jackson appeared before my eyes.

     Neither of us was into girls. I just didn’t care about getting involved with them, but for some reason I never understood, they freaked Jackson out. Well, now I knew what I was going do.

     I grabbed my laptop and located a sex website named, “Female Cops and Robbers.” I found a phone number and called. Within minutes, my plan fell into place. Everything would be ready to go before Jackson arrived home from school tomorrow.

     He played soccer after his college classes and came home sweating like a pig and would always jump in the shower before dinner. As I sat on the couch watching TV, I heard the key in the front door lock.

     Jackson came charging into the living room and tossed something small into my lap. “Oh, my God!” I screamed. It was a dead bug in a tiny plastic case.

     “Got you again, little bro,” he chanted. “Gonna go take a shower.”

     I regained my composure, relaxed, and waited for the moment of truth to arrive. I heard the shower door open. And then . . .

     Jackson yelled, “What the hell!” and came running naked into the living room, followed by a beautiful nude woman wearing a police officer’s hat, with a badge on a chain hanging around her neck, and a

bedcover draped over her shoulders.

     I glared at Jackson and laughed out of control. “I see you met our undercover cop, big bro.”

 

 

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