My brother ate two Christmas pies so now he has to eat two more.
Hey. You might remember my turd of a little brother from when he ate all my Halloween candy so I forced him to watch 40 minutes of nothing but commercials.
I’m back home for the holidays, and that little sh*t is back at it again. Our angel of a grandmother, who cooked Christmas dinner two days ago, brought two pies for dessert. Everyone was stuffed, so she couldn’t even give that shit away, and left the pies for my family to eat at our leisure.
Fast forward to today, and my father opens the refrigerator and looks in the bags to find two empty pie tins. Just left there. Empty. As if to mock him.
Haunted by unfulfilled hopes of apple crumbcake and pumpkin pie, he went apeshit yelling at my little brother. That motherfucker ate one whole pie the day after Christmas, then the other whole pie yesterday. No one got a single piece. I honestly don’t even know how he did it– it must’ve been while my dad was napping and I was running errands– twice. TWICE. TWO DAYS IN A ROW. This kid is 19 years old. He went to preschool but apparently failed to retain the concept of “sharing.”
As my dad kept yelling, Chris’s remorseless laughter kept escaping. Because he is a monster.
After threatening physical violence over the loss of pie, my dad exited the house. I assumed it was to cool down, but I was wrong. He comes back into the house with two pies. Oh, good, I thought, He’ll make Chris watch while we eat pie and he gets none.
Wrong. That brilliant, pie-loving bastard instructs me to take a slice for myself and a slice or him, and then makes Chris sit down at the table. He must now eat one and a half pies without getting up from the table. They’re both apple and I hope he doesn’t barf. He says he’s feeling fine but he still has a whole pie to go.