Today's entry is from 04/10/2010

Deary diary,

Today was the start of a pretty typical day here at the household. Mom was having her early morning martini and dad was reading "The Protocols of the Elders of Zion" for the fourth time. I was having phone sex with Ben (who, by the way, is fucking gorgeous, but he's not terribly bright). That's when the doorbell rang. My mother, claiming loudly that she'd "Fucking get the goddamn door" when my dad motioned that he wasn't going to get up. That changed kinda fast when she managed to trip over her own feet, which I'm sure the fact it was her third martini had nothing to do with that. Dad pretty much went fuck it and answered the door.

I stopped paying attention for a minute to keep up with Ben when mom yelled out "Andy! Andy! Come down, it's your brother Brian!" Of course, I had to feign my excitement and end my call with Ben. I hopped away from my room and came down, looking around cautiously, as my brother had instilled a crippling fear of him tackling me out of nowhere (as he was wont to do when we were little). Surprisingly, it didn't happen to me, for the first time in 6 years. He was pretty much chilling with the folks in the living room.

He looked pretty awful to be honest. He was really pale and let his hair grow out like some death metal fan. Maybe he's discovered heroin. Just kidding, my sister's the one with the heroin addiction. =) Anyway, he was talking about how he netted this job as a mortician's assistant at some funeral home the next town over. This fact sorta bothered me. But I couldn't quite place my brother's penis in some dead chick's snatch. Oops, I mean I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

They asked him the obligatory questions: did the mortician himself bang stiffs? Does formaldehyde really get you high? Dad asked the most important question: do you have to work on any Jews? Brian shrugged.

I, of course, had to ask why he was there. He simply said to tell us the news and that he wanted to tell it in person. Mom got mad at me and told me to shut my trampy mouth. No idea why it's trampy, but when I asked mom she simply told me because it it and I shouldn't question her or I'm no better than a thieving gypsy. I hate my family sometimes. I just let it go and listen to them drone on.

After a while dad had to go out to the Bible store to get some "Jew-free" literature. Mom was passed out on the couch with her fourth martini half drunk. That's when Brian told me he had something important to say. I wasn't really sure what to make of it, especially since Brian hates me. And I don't mean that in a family way, he flat out hates me and has told me several times he'd be better off if I died. Mostly when he was drunk and had gotten caught masturbating to some...bizarre porn by mom because of me being a little tattle-tale. Well, he said that I was the only one in the family he could trust. Weird.

That's when he dropped the creepiest bomb to end all. He told me something I don't think anyone would ever expect to hear and the first thing to come to mind is that they're bullshitting. He told me he was into banging stiffs. Like, literally. I didn't really believe him until he pulled out his phone and showed me the pictures. Yeah, he was carrying it around and the worst part was I could tell they were corpses.

He then told me the only reason he told me was because he knew I was gay and that I was the only sexual deviant in the family he felt he could confide in because we're so "similar". I threw up a few minutes after seeing my brother's dick in various dead chicks. As I came out of the bathroom, he asked me not to tell anyone. Against my better judgement, I agreed to and have not told mom or dad. That and he said he'd cut off my fingers, knock out my teeth, cut off my tongue and blind me if I told them.

Well, diary, I have to say, again, sometimes I hate my family and with that, I'm going to go to sleep. Deuces.