My brother is a complainer

Emma Garcia, Staff Writer

I have had a very long weekend.

On Saturday I had golf in the morning, I volunteered at the Friends of the Library Bookstore in the afternoon, and then I had the next performance of the play. I got home late then woke up early the next morning to drive to Fort Bragg to see my grandparents, mainly my grandmother.

We were going because about two weeks ago, my grandmother had a heart attack. We moved her to the same nursing home my grandfather is in but a few days ago she requested hospice. So instead of going to see her over the break, we went this weekend. That’s all I would like to say about it. Every single period yesterday my teachers asked me about it and I’m done. I don’t want to have to explain it one more time. Besides, this is not what this post is about.

It’s about my brother, who’s ten. And he’s a whiny buttface. I refer to him as “booger,” which isn’t as mean as it sounds, since that’s how he refers to me.

Anyway, he’s a complainer in a general. This fact was made even worse because I was stuck in the car with him for more than five hours (it should only take four and a half but when the car ride involves children/teenagers, you have to make a lot of stops).

My brother is able to complain about everything. From how he had to let me have shotgun for half of the trip, to how we stopped multiple places for lunch, to how my mom wouldn’t keep the radio silent because he couldn’t hear his music — he complained us to the point of exhaustion. He actually talked himself to sleep, sleeping for five blissful minutes in the back seat until he started up again.

I don’t know how to resolve this problem other than simply removing it. So I’m here to make you all an offer: would you like to buy a ten-year-old boy who’s obsessed with comic books? If not, I’d be willing to pay you in return for taking him. No? Well, okay.

Let’s just hope we don’t have any more long car rides soon.