I never got any damn cereal!

My brother George called yesterday to speak to my mother. I thought it was best to give him the same treatment he gave me when she visited him in Hawaii.

George: Ramona.

Me: (in a high-pitched voice) Georgie-koong. (Note: this is my mom’s pet name for him and my one sure-fire weapon to irritate him.)

George: Let me speak to Mom.

Me: She’s not here. She doesn’t want to speak to you. Ever. Ha ha! How does that feel George?

Here’s a list of acts of brotherly love which I never reciprocated:

-Making me lick a nine-volt battery

-Forcing me to address him as, “Sir, Lieutenant, sir.”

-Calling me Mona Chow-Chow Mona throughout my formative years

-Holding the phone up to my face and saying in an uncensored instruction, “Tell him you’re busy.”

-Telling my sister I needed $20 for cereal to which she asked me why I didn’t ask her and in turn incited my response, “I never got any damn cereal!”

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