My Crazy Siblings

This is one of my favorite stories. It also incorporates, and backs up my Asperger's story and how it runs rampid in my family.

A couple years ago, my little brother and little sister kept bugging me to go out on St. Patrick's Day.

St. Patrick's Day is a national holiday in our book, and one year, I remember dropping my mother off at an Irish Pub on St. Patrick's Day, after I dropped off my kids at school. I take the kids bar hopping, and then go out with my sister later. Although this tradition has dwindled since we are all married now, and our families are growing, but here is one St. Patty's Day that stands out from the rest.

I met my brother and sister at a bar called Sullivans. It is one of two bars that regularly has Guinness on Draft. (The drunkard's answer to breakfast shake.)

We were hammered. It was great, the music couldn't be louder, people couldn't be happier, and my siblings are the life of the party. We walked from bar to bar, and drank all the green beer we could get our hands on. (The next day, though, you really wonder if the water at the sewage treatment plant is green, too. You wipe, still green, wipe, still green, wipe....Like wiping a green chocolate bar.) My brother's wife didn't want to come out. To this day we still wonder why she didn't want to, we begged her. All the while she was calling every five minutes to see when my brother was coming home. She even showed up at the bar, but my brother refused to get into the car with her, reassuring her that I would bring him home. She later called to confirm this, and yes, yes, I would bring him home.

I really didn't know that my brother married the spawn of satan until much later, but I'll save that for last. Rumor has it that Hell spat her out because even they couldn't stand her.

So drinking and dancing, elbow to elbow with perfect strangers, who couldn't ask for a better time. I even have this great photo of my brother peeing in a phone booth. Like superman, but I don't think superman peed in the phone booths.

2 a.m. rolls around, and here in PA, that's what time the bar closes. I knew we could squeeze one more bar in before they all closed, so we all piled into the Jeep Cherokee I had at the time. We were driving down the main drag, and my brother says, "Dude, you're taking me home first, right?" We all look at him and say no, we won't have time, etc. etc. So he says, "If you don't drop me off, I'm getting out of the car right now." So he did. I tried to yell for him, but the light was green and behind me was a long line of traffic with the same idea we had.

I hated to do it, so I took a vote in the car. Should we get him? Naaa. everyone said, we don't have time. So we kept driving, and went to the last watering hole of the night. He only lived like, 13 blocks away. He was young. He was drunk, and yes, he had enough cigarettes for the walk home.

Fast forward to days later. At this time I was working third shift, and I didn't know it, but my demon sister-in-law was trying to call me. Nobody ever gave me the message though, because she always called when I was sleeping. This just made her demon-like qualities even more noticable.

Finally, some braniac managed to pass it on that she called. Not knowing at the time why she was calling me, I called her back. She was furious, and she made it sound like I dropped him off in the Sahara desert without any water. (Quite the contrary, it was freezing out. But hey, he had a coat, and jumped out of the car.) Well, she said that he said that I took him captive, and wouldn't take him home, and used the child locks on him. He must've made this story good so she'd believe some other stupid reason why he wasn't home earlier. (The child locks in my car at the time were not even electric, they were manual, and to use them you had to open the door and flip the switch on each door. To boot, they were rusted in the unlock position. I can thank Chrysler for piss poor engineering and cheap Korean Metal.) So she was just screaming at me, "How would you like it if I dropped your daughter off in the middle of winter on State street?!!!!" The demon asked me. I told the demon, "My daughter wouldn't be out until 2 a.m. on St. Patrick's Day, and would have more sense than to jump out of the car in the winter." So this rhetorical dizzying intellect went round and round until she hung up on me.

My brother called about a month later and apologized, and by that time, I really didn't care anyway. She was (and still is) a maniacal bitch. He married her, he's got to ....ew. sleep with her. Coincidentally, they did make their own at home porn, or whatever you call it. I never saw it, but my other sister-in-law did. She just relayed it to everyone that it looked like to mannequins laying on top of each other. At one point one mannequin has his face in the other mannequin's groin area, while the other mannequin receiving cunnilingus lays there expressionless. They labeled the tape "Scooby Doo" so my sister-in-law, (not the demon one) popped it in, at first not knowing what the heck it was. Watch out Paris Hilton.

So through the years, she has left many a bitchy voice mail, and we play them over and over again, just for shits and giggles. Right now, my brother won't talk to any of us, partly because of his wife, you may also know her as Lucifer, the dark angel.

So my other sister-in-law has in her posession, one of the said email messages. She has it saved in her archives of her voice mail. Every twenty one days, she plays it for me, and we both recap and remember why we don't want to talk to her anyway.

I wonder whatever happened to that low budget scooby doo tape. I know that the sex can't be that good, because she's taken up quilting.