Let's Burn Our Dreams Into the Skyline
Incest?
- - - -
School passed by dully. When we got to the Wentz house, Mom was home from work, and swamped with shit to do, so she kicked us out. Our plan B was the mall, so we piled into Stump’s piece-of-total-shit car and began our venture to the mall.
The mall was always packed on a Friday night. What else was there to do in Chicago? Nothing. So we went to the mall and disturbed the peace, sometimes we actually bought stuff, but not usually. You can most likely find us sitting in the food court and screaming immature shit, sometimes eating, but not usually.
"Wentz!" Gabe screamed. At the next table over a small infant started to cry. Weird. When Gabe screamed it again, the baby stopped. Then the third time, the baby started to cry again. True story.
“I’m vibrating.” I called out, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. I flipped it open and answered with a “Hello?”
“Linnea!” screamed the voice on the other end. Let me take this opportunity to tell you that my mother does not know how to use a phone. She always screams into the speaker. It’s pretty irritating.
“Yes?” I sighed.
“I want you guys home in an hour, okay?”
Another sigh. “Why?”
“Because, I do. Don’t argue with me. Bye. I love you.”
I hung up, sighing a third time. What bugged me even more than having to be in at 9:30 on a Friday night? The fact that Pete had the nerve to fight with me about it and then tell me this curfew was my entire fault. I didn’t have the energy to argue.
I brought Max home with me. We lounged on the family room floor and watched European Vacation, until Pete decided to crash our party.
“If you’re going to watch the movie with us, you need to make popcorn.” I told him softly, carefully choosing my words in effort not to spark another fight.
“Fuck you.” He growled, sitting next to me and taking a swig of my mountain dew. I snatched it back from him and smugly returned a glare. Is ‘fuck you’ his only response when we're in a fight?
Pete eventually caved and made some popcorn. He carried in the large, round bowl and dropped it on the carpet, spilling popcorn everywhere. We all grabbed handful after handful and finished the movie in complete silence.
- - - -
When Max and I woke up, Pete was gone, so we decided to stalk him. We crept up the stairs carefully so we wouldn’t spawn a single squeak. We gradually approached his door, sliding it open. So what do we find?
We find my brother sitting on his torn-apart bed, jacking off.
We attempted to hush our giggles, and failed hopelessly.
“Get the fuck away.” Pete’s screams pierced the night silence. Screeeeeeeewed.
“Someone enjoys saying the word ‘fuck’.” I mumbled.
“Ever hear of privacy? Now leave.”
“Why should I?” I exclaimed, jumping on his bed. Max just sat in the doorway, not wanting to get involved in the upcoming argument.
He stood up, throwing a baseball at me. It would up hitting me in the head. This was the first physical fight we ever had, I think. Not counting when we were younger and used to wrestle each other in the backyard in attempt to solve disagreements.
His eyes widened in panic and distress as I dropped to my knees on his floor.
“That hurt.” I whimpered, steadying myself as Pete pulled on my arms and helped me up.
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
I thought about it for a minute. Forgive and forget? Forgive and don’t forget? Or hold a grudge on him forever?
“It’s okay.” I muttered, not fully knowing if I truly meant it or not. He pulled me into an extremely awkward hug. I just limply stood there.
Max still stood in the doorway and loudly cleared her throat. “Incest.”
“You wish.” Pete murmured as he released his grip on me.
“I do.” She said finally entering the room, “I’d pay to see that.”
This earned her some odd glances then we all sat on Pete’s floor. I suppose it was one of the few times there was (somewhat) peace among the Wentz children.
School passed by dully. When we got to the Wentz house, Mom was home from work, and swamped with shit to do, so she kicked us out. Our plan B was the mall, so we piled into Stump’s piece-of-total-shit car and began our venture to the mall.
The mall was always packed on a Friday night. What else was there to do in Chicago? Nothing. So we went to the mall and disturbed the peace, sometimes we actually bought stuff, but not usually. You can most likely find us sitting in the food court and screaming immature shit, sometimes eating, but not usually.
"Wentz!" Gabe screamed. At the next table over a small infant started to cry. Weird. When Gabe screamed it again, the baby stopped. Then the third time, the baby started to cry again. True story.
“I’m vibrating.” I called out, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. I flipped it open and answered with a “Hello?”
“Linnea!” screamed the voice on the other end. Let me take this opportunity to tell you that my mother does not know how to use a phone. She always screams into the speaker. It’s pretty irritating.
“Yes?” I sighed.
“I want you guys home in an hour, okay?”
Another sigh. “Why?”
“Because, I do. Don’t argue with me. Bye. I love you.”
I hung up, sighing a third time. What bugged me even more than having to be in at 9:30 on a Friday night? The fact that Pete had the nerve to fight with me about it and then tell me this curfew was my entire fault. I didn’t have the energy to argue.
I brought Max home with me. We lounged on the family room floor and watched European Vacation, until Pete decided to crash our party.
“If you’re going to watch the movie with us, you need to make popcorn.” I told him softly, carefully choosing my words in effort not to spark another fight.
“Fuck you.” He growled, sitting next to me and taking a swig of my mountain dew. I snatched it back from him and smugly returned a glare. Is ‘fuck you’ his only response when we're in a fight?
Pete eventually caved and made some popcorn. He carried in the large, round bowl and dropped it on the carpet, spilling popcorn everywhere. We all grabbed handful after handful and finished the movie in complete silence.
- - - -
When Max and I woke up, Pete was gone, so we decided to stalk him. We crept up the stairs carefully so we wouldn’t spawn a single squeak. We gradually approached his door, sliding it open. So what do we find?
We find my brother sitting on his torn-apart bed, jacking off.
We attempted to hush our giggles, and failed hopelessly.
“Get the fuck away.” Pete’s screams pierced the night silence. Screeeeeeeewed.
“Someone enjoys saying the word ‘fuck’.” I mumbled.
“Ever hear of privacy? Now leave.”
“Why should I?” I exclaimed, jumping on his bed. Max just sat in the doorway, not wanting to get involved in the upcoming argument.
He stood up, throwing a baseball at me. It would up hitting me in the head. This was the first physical fight we ever had, I think. Not counting when we were younger and used to wrestle each other in the backyard in attempt to solve disagreements.
His eyes widened in panic and distress as I dropped to my knees on his floor.
“That hurt.” I whimpered, steadying myself as Pete pulled on my arms and helped me up.
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
I thought about it for a minute. Forgive and forget? Forgive and don’t forget? Or hold a grudge on him forever?
“It’s okay.” I muttered, not fully knowing if I truly meant it or not. He pulled me into an extremely awkward hug. I just limply stood there.
Max still stood in the doorway and loudly cleared her throat. “Incest.”
“You wish.” Pete murmured as he released his grip on me.
“I do.” She said finally entering the room, “I’d pay to see that.”
This earned her some odd glances then we all sat on Pete’s floor. I suppose it was one of the few times there was (somewhat) peace among the Wentz children.