Kicked my brother to the curb on the 30th. Bit of an expression, but actually true this time. Problem was, the guy had infiltrated my place to such a degree that I had to move all his stuff.
You’re prolly saying he should move his own stuff, and yeah, normally this would fall on him, but he was out at work. And this was the only time I’d worked up the courage to make this move, so it was a now or never kinda deal.. Wasn’t hard at first–clothes and bags tossed together and wheeled outside. The dumb drawings he’d hung up–all taken down, transported. Leafed through the library, a buncha self-help garbage he liked to quote when my interviews fell through. Heck, most of the plates and cups were his, and I ain’t one for a handout. I kept his liquor though.
I thought about keeping a few things–the framed portraits, the furniture. Trouble being that he had just as much a stake in these. Wasn’t like I was trying to rid the place of him, but the more I thought, the less I wanted these things. So I dumped ’em out.
Finally got to be around six and he’d be coming home soon so I took one last pass through the place. Last thing standing was this old boar’s head, sorta costume guy that I found in the closet. Didn’t know we had it–kinda goofy-looking figure with this big snout. I was a big fan and moved it right to the center of the living room, right on the ground. Sat on the floor and realized it stared at you no matter where you were in the room. Damnedest thing.
So I went out to the curb as my brother was pulling into the driveway and threw the boar’s head at his car and flipped him the bird, and then I went back inside and felt like I finally had my place back to how it should be so I lay down on the living room carpet and napped for damn near 12 hours.