The Ultimate Bet

“Urgh. I feel like someone ran me over with a bus. Like, fifty billion times, that or took a sledgehammer and smacked me with it.”

“Both sound equally appealing.” Mikey hummed, drowning his pancakes with syrup.

Gerard just covered his eyes with his hand, unsuccessfully blocking the excruciating glare of the sunlight peeking through the kitchen window. Hangovers weren’t the worst thing he’d experienced. He would get over them quickly and it was like they never existed, and he could never recall the pain until he was hung-over again. But he’d delayed the again longer than usual.

“I didn’t even drink that much. What the fuck?”

“Your body’s not used to it.”

“Can you stop talking? My head already hurts.”

“Well, in that case.” Mikey smirked, cutting his pancakes with vigor, scraping the butter knife and fork hard against the plate, making a horrible screeching sound.

“Fuck!”

“Too tempting, sorry.” Mikey apologized, not sounding sorry at all.

By the time Donna walked in, she wasn’t surprised to find her oldest clenching his ears and her youngest smirking as he ate.

“Some things never change, do they?” Donna chortled, opening a cabinet for a coffee mug. “Ever since I brought you home from the hospital, Michael, you’ve done nothing but harass your brother. From crying and pulling at his hair, to this.”

“But mom, someone’s gotta do it.”

“True,” Donna agreed, ignoring Gerard’s mock-glare. “What time did you boys get home last night?”

“Early,” Gerard mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Early in the morning. Please mom, can we save this for another day? Or year? Decade?”

Donna sighed. “Just wait until you have kids. I don’t need to lecture, yell, or ground you anymore. I know I’ll get my revenge when you become a father.”

“Please, no way in hell am I even looking at a woman, much less touching.”

“Or until you get a prostate examination,” Donna replied innocently.

“What the-"

“It’s perfectly normal. All older men have to get their prostate examined twice a year. Your father’s appointment is next week.”

Gerard blanched. “Mom, stop. You’ve tortured me enough. I did not need to know that. Please…Just stop before I stick this knife in my ear and bust my own eardrum with it.”

“Unless you prefer a man to do it,” Donna continued, stirring the sugar into her coffee, oblivious to her sons’ horrified gazes. “Maybe you’ll like that better? Sexual preference and all?”

“I think our family is the most dysfunctional, fucked up family ever,” Mikey announced, his appetite lost, unsure what side he was on. “Talking about prostate exams during breakfast. What’s next, mom? Necrophilia for dinner?”

“Actually, I really came here to tell you something important, honey,” Donna changed the subject, her tone a lot more stern than what either boy liked. “I would’ve waited, but I thought, since you already feel like crap, it’s best to give you the bad news all at once.”

Both boys held their breaths. Gerard just closed his eyes, put his head on the table, and waited for his impending death. Great.

“The neighbor called this morning, wanting your car insurance info. Apparently you forgot to put the emergency break on and the car rolled down the hill, colliding with their Mercedes. So I took the liberty of giving him the info. The insurance will cover it but since you got a speeding ticket six months ago, they’re canceling you.”

“Urgh,” Gerard repeated, uncertain whether it was for the pain his head or what his mother was telling him. “Are you retarded, Mikey? I thought you knew-"

“I forgot!”

“Forgot my ass! You fucking asshole! You did it on purpose!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Boys,” Donna broke in harshly, her tone cutting through Gerard’s resolve to slaughter his brother in the kitchen. “Arguing who did what is not going to fix the past. So please, for the sake of my good China ware, go fight in the living room. At least nothing in there is breakable. Not after you broke the family heirloom, anyway.”

**

“Where you going?”

“Where d’you think I’m going? I’m going to see the President of the fucking United States of fucking America,” Gerard shot back, digging under the bed for his shoes. “I have a hot date, Mikes. I’m into old guys now who need their prostates examined twice a year, y’know.”

“You suck at sarcastic comebacks,” Mikey replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the door.

“Sorry I can’t be a sarcastic, back-stabbing, revengeful scumbag like you,” he sneered. “Happy now? I’m car-less. I guess now my little brother is going to have to carpool me.”

Mikey sighed and Gerard threw up his hands. “Yeah, Mikey. What? Huh? I’m not an idiot. Okay, most could argue against that but guess what? Unlike what you think, I can feel guilty.”

“Yeah, and so far you’ve done nothing but swear at me for your mistakes,” Mikey snapped, aggravated. “I have to tell you something.”

“I’m going to the convenient store. I’m back to smoking, full-time. Two packs a day,” Gerard declared, too agitated as he searched for his car keys to listen to what his brother was babbling about. He swore under his breath once he realized he had no car to drive. “And never again will I cut down. I welcome my self-induced death.”

“All right, but before you go on a suicide rampage, there is something I need to tell you. About last night,” Mikey's sharp tone penetrated through Gerard's jumbled thoughts, the urgency and trepidation in his younger brother's voice cutting through, and Gerard dropped his sweater he was holding, examining his brother in incredulity.

All his nightmares were coming true, well actually, they came true this morning but he wasn’t fully aware of it until now.

It took a few seconds for Gerard to hear his cell phone go off, and he raced to the nightstand stand to retrieve it, almost hoping-

“Hello? Fr—"

“Holy shit, Gerard. D’you realize-You’re-"

“You—How-You-Did -What?” Gerard turned around, containing his fury and trying to listen what everything Ray was telling him. His head began to throb as he tried to process everything, and Mikey’s guilty stare didn’t help refute what he was hearing. Perhaps he should’ve stabbed his eardrums with the knife when he had the chance.

Gerard turned back to his brother, astounded with what he heard next.

“What? Cam-r-recorder? For—Oh. Wait, Bob did-"

After a few more swear words, Gerard gave a hasty goodbye to Ray, telling him, no, he wasn’t the culprit, but he had a good thought who was. Snapping his phone shut, Gerard could only scowl at his brother, despite the impulse to punch his brother in the mouth and break his teeth in.

“I have to give you fucking props,” Gerard seethed, throwing his cell phone to his brother with a harder force than necessary. “You outdid me on this one. Anything else you wanna tell me? Or should I wait for another fucking phone call? It seems to be the preferred method of getting told your brother is a fucking two-faced, hypocritical, scheming fuck-face.”

The younger Way didn’t bat an eye at his brother’s outraged demeanor. He simply sighed and uncrossed his arms, admitting with a grim tone, “Then I suggest turning off your phone before I start.”

“Well fuck. You’re driving me to the convenient store first. I have a feeling I’m going to need more than just two packs when I hear this.”