Oh, if only looks could kill–Delsin would be on the floor.
“There is absolutely no way, that is coming out of my mouth.” His ego was a delicate thing, and his brother loved to push his buttons to the limit. “You say sorry, one more time for wrecking my shirt and maybe, maybe I’ll admit it.”
“F i n e, if you insist. I’m sorry I’ve mildly upset you by doing something you told me to do, Reggie.”
Every word was spoken with the usual zeal, a sarcastic attempt at sounding sincere. “Now say it- here, I’ll repeat it for you. ‘Delsin’s right, like he always is, and Reggie’s w r o n g .’”
Lips part, only a noise coming out. Oh…right. Laundry that day.
“You’re telling me to–” Another tired sigh, “Fine. Can you help me try to fix it. Please.”
“Oh? What was that? The sound of ‘Delsin’s right and Reggie’s wrong’?”
“You know what? I’ll help you, because you’re my brother.
But f i r s t I want to hear you say
that. ‘Delsin’s right and Reggie’s wrong.’”
There it was, that smarmy smile
spreading it’s way across his face,
“Say it.”
“Well gee, maybe because it was in my room, with my stuff, where you’re not supposed to be unless there’s something you really, really need out of there?”
“When I said traditional I didn’t mean go the hell nuts with paint. Does that stuff even come out?”
“Correction, officer, it was in the hamper by the laundry room.”
“As for the paint? Well, I may know a few tricks,
hairspray usually does the trick- or rubbing alcohol. Now, this is assuming you want to tone the attitude down and step off, of course.”
