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[splinten]

[There's a long wait on this one. It is specifically the amount of time it takes to finish watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.]

I'm going to say this as clearly as I can.
You are hurting your brother right now.
I'm sorry I punched you. That wasn't okay from any point of view. But it wasn't because you were being a jackass.
It's that I freaked out and wanted any kind of reaction out of you. Anything that gave me any indication you had willingness to connect with me.
Because, as you might be aware, feeling like you're interacting with a locked house is a fairly unpleasant experience.
I'm talking beyond ultimate wedgie in front of the person you like unpleasant.
Past the mental image of a fish swimming up your dick unpleasant.
We've just waved at "living alone for sixteen years" unpleasant as we drove by it. Driver didn't bother to stop on the roadside Mickey D's, there's a lot of milage to cover here. The kids want to take a picture with "your boyfriend hopping to another planet because he can't stand you" unpleasant but the car is going too fast.
We stop, at long last at the promised location. It's "Your Bro Refusing to Have Any Kind of Emotional Relationship With You" Land. The kids hop out of the car and Mom reminds everyone to grab their water bottles. They don't, they're too excited. Dad promised them a ride on "He's Cutting Your Heart Open To Protect You."
(It's a rollercoaster.)
They are so fuckin' into this, Dave. You cannot believe it. They grab cotton candy which is such a beginner's mistake. Eat the whole thing in line. They board the ride. Mom and Dad stay behind. The kids all sit in separate seats on separate coasters.
When they get off they're not bleeding or anything. They walk straight and talk straight.
Probably thew up the cotton candy somewhere on the ride though, that was a dumb move on their part.
The kids look fine.
They walk in different directions. Cindy Lou doesn't respond when Mom calls out. She can't hear anything but the wild wailing in her ears.
Little Sam sits in a trash can. He lives there now. It's his home. The smell of rotting fast food almost makes him sick enough to forget the ache.
Almost.
And Timmy...
Poor Timmy can't touch a thing without having to bite back a scream.
Timmy got it the worst.
Mom and Dad go home. On their next tax forms they say they have no dependants.
Their tax forms always said they have no dependants.
They look around and they're living in a condo with just one bedroom.