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ornithopter: The Story of Brandon - Chapter II |
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Here are some things that Brandon does:
He has the smallest room in the house, yet he almost never leaves his room. When he does, it seems to only be late at night and is only to bake frozen pizzas, his favorite brand being Freschetta, although he sometimes will settle for a Tombstone. I know this, because several times a week, I awake to the remains of his late night feedings sitting on top of the stove.
He forced me to watch a really shitty video that he had edited which was apparently shown on Somerville cable access, home of Somerville Dance Party and F'n Poker Nite.
Every time Vin Diesel appears on TV, he feels the need to tell me the story of the documentary that Mr. Diesel made which .won a prize at Sundance. and how he's not really dumb, he's just manipulative. EVERY time. I finally had to point out to him the 3rd time he tried to relate this story that he had already told me this.
For a long time, I thought that he had a consumptive girl in his room. Well, good for him, I thought, he may be dumb, but at least he's found someone. Rude of him to not introduce her, though. After about 2 months, I realized that despite his overly deep, booming voice that cuts through two walls to get into my bedroom and undoubtedly the upstairs neighbor's house, he coughs like a teenage girl. High pitched and croupy.
For a period of time, every time he passed my friend Erik, he insisted on forcing him to engage in some sort of male-bonding-fist-touching-high-five sort of maneuver that he seemed to perform only when his hand was soaking wet after having washed the dishes.
My other roommate, Yvonne, is in graduate school studying art. He attempts to bond with her by telling her that he once took this course in college called intro to modern art. He has nothing more to say about it other than the fact that he took it. Yvonne's response is usually, .Oh yeah?. We managed to get out of him that he likes Jackson Pollock. He thinks this makes him very erudite. He is mistaken.
He was absolutely amazed, as if I had just told him that he will one day grow wings and fly, when I made the statement that many people in the UK are country music fans. He just could not seem to fathom this. .No! You're kidding me!. he kept saying. .No, I'm not,. I had to keep replying over and over and over.
When replying to any question in the affirmative or when asked about his well being when he should reply with the word .alright,. he always instead says 'a-ight.. He is pretty fly for a white guy.
Every time he leaves the house ( which is not very often, and usually to go buy pizza,) he will give you the ol. wink-and-point-a-finger-gun at you. This is done without a trace of irony.
He has twice left inhumanly large turds in the toilet. I always seem to be the one to find them. The last one required 15 minutes of flushing in a vain attempt to avoid having to touch The Turd with the plunger. I went to bed and dry heaved for about an hour after that one.
I suppose I'm just jealous of his blissful ignorance. I could never take such delight in playing video games for days on end unless I was as dumb as him. So I get back at him by making fun of him on the internet. Works, too.
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