Why my brother rocked the schoolyard

You know, it’s lucky that my brother and I were so flipping excellent as children.

My brother is, without doubt, the most stubborn and seemingly rude person you will ever meet. By which I mean to say, although he seems rude, he is truly trying not to be.

For example, my mother and I took him to the zoo one day. There are four years between us, so I was all of 9 years old, and he was 5. As we stood before the monkey enclosure (I was giggling because I could see their penises – if I could slap my past self, I would), a lady with her much smaller child came and stood beside us.

This child was around 2 years old, and was in a pram, quietly (ok, I lie, the brat was definitely scoffing the shit out of them) munching some crisps. As he/she/it ogled the monkeys, my brother ran over, grabbed the packet of crisps and returned to us, as if nothing had happened.

My mother was, naturally, mortified and told him to return the crisps and apologize. The other mother, however, clearly felt intimidated by this scary display of manliness and simpered, “Don’t worry, he can keep them.”

Yeah, if my kid was such a sissy that someone could nick his chips that easily, I’d also opt for a dignified retreat.

At this point, there was not much my mother could do, apart from accept and tell my brother to say thank you.

Luckily, at that point in his life, my brother had a speech impediment. He walked up to the lady, puffed out his little chest, put his feet together and said, “Fuck you.”

WHAT did he just say?

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