24 August 2014

Sex tape scandals

Having lived apart for so long, my brother and I sometimes feel we don't know each other the way we used to. It's depressing until we realize how much easier mind games have become.

One night we're waiting at the tram stop with two of my friends after a game of laser tag, and I'm chatting with my chick-friend M. while my brother play-flirts with my guy-friend V. At one point, V. suddenly grins and asks him, "Have you seen your sister's sex tape?"

For a moment, I'm taken aback. My brother's jaw drops. Then I relax. "Oh, I didn't tell you about that?" I ask nonchalantly.

"You made a sex tape?" demands my brother, blanching. "With who?"

I shrug casually. "You know, that Swedish guy I was dating a while back. We wanted to experiment."

M. suddenly gets the gist of what's causing my brother to hyperventilate. "You made a sex tape?" she says with a smile. "That sounds fun! You never told me!"

I miss a beat as I realize that she doesn't know I'm joking. But if there's one thing my father taught me, it's not to let feelings ruin a perfectly good prank.

My brother stares down at his lap, shaking his head and seething. "What the fuck."

"It's what couples do in France," says V. "You should watch it. Your sister was amazing," he adds kindly (as I quickly inform M. in French that I do not, in fact, have a sex tape floating around).

"She's my sister!" shouts my brother, looking up at him in disgust. "We're American!"

At this point, the tram has arrived, so we make our way inside. My friends and I stand around my brother as he takes a seat, his prude knees apparently too weak to stand.

"It's a joke," says V., though his accent is too French for my brother's American ears to understand.

"What?" he says, having heard something along the lines of "jock."

"We're not serious," I tell him with a little nudge that causes him to recoil. "I don't have a sex tape."

My brother gapes up at the three of us. Then he looks away. "I hate you."

09 August 2014

The naked incident

I've been living roommate-free for three years. Thus, I have developed certain habits that aren't exactly roommate-friendly. One such habit is dressing with the bathroom door open.

So I'm standing in my underwear in the bathroom with the door only partly closed, and I've got the news playing from atop the wash machine. My brother hears part of a story involving a chicken and a penis and decides to come have a listen.

He stops before the partially-opened door. We see each other's reflections in the mirror, and I quickly pull my shirt up to my chest. His eyes widen in shock. He quickly flips away as I burst out laughing.

He stands in the hallway outside, pinching the bridge of his nose, traumatized. He sighs in relief upon realizing, after reflecting, that what he saw was indeed only a bra rather than his sister's bare breasts.

I spend the next five minutes in a fit of laughter as my brother avoids all eye contact, scarred for life. We'll be making some adjustments to our living arrangement.