It was a normal day like every other day, but well I didn't expect otherwise. Just me and my little brother chilling around in our awesome apartment. Everything about our family was awesome, even though it was just the two of us. But maybe it was for the best. If there would be another Strider the universe would explode.
I wondered where my little bro had wondered off to, I hadn't seen him in a while. He did ask me if he could play x-box but I denied that. Nobody's allowed to touch my x-box. Well except for me that is. If somebody else touches it the thing will explode because it can only handle my amount of ironicness. Man he better not touched that damn x-box. I pushed the door to my room open to see if the little bastard was in there. Nope. No sign of the little coolkid. Man eight year-olds can be so annoying sometimes. I continued my search in the kitchen but he was nowhere to be found there either. I decided I would check up on the fridge. That bitch better got some coolguy food shoved in there. Turned out I was wrong. Just the usual shit like butter and milk and other dairies nobody fucking gives a damn shit about. And swords. All of the damn swords. Fucking all of them.
After putting the swords back in the fridge where they belong I decided to check up on the living room and found the little critter curled up on the couch. I had not a single fucking idea what the fuck he was doing on the couch curling up like a big fat woman watching soap operas on a Saturday night, but I knew it couldn't be very ironic. I went up to him and pulled his blanket off. "Dave what the fuck is this." I asked him with a raised eyebrow. "Dude you can't just lay here like a faggot watching-" I paused as I saw what he was watching. "Okay bro why the fuck are you watching Oprah." As I awaited his response, which I expected to be damn ironic, I noticed that he had clutched his stomach. "Bro just fuck off will you." He responded. "Just for once let me watch shit you consider as uncool man." He told me and he continued watching. "Dave what the fuck are you talking about? Man Oprah isn't cool okay just go watch some bad ass ninja shit or something." "Bro you don't have a fucking idea what you are saying man, Oprah is the fucking bomb and you know it." He interrupted his rant with a series of dry coughs. "And didn't I tell you to leave me the fuck alone." I stood there staring at him for a while and decided I would play some sick games on my x-box, leaving my little ignorant fuckass of a brother behind with his girly crybaby bitch moans.
After I got tired of guys being stuck on poles trying to grab those damn Doritos I decided to call it a night and I went to my room, not knowing about the little fucker who would stumble in that night ruing my ironic beauty sleep. I noticed he had brought his crybaby bitch blanket and a box of tissues, both carefully stuffed under his tiny ass 8 year old arms. "B-bro?" He softly whispered. "Are you awake?" I sat up in my bed. "Yes I am now thanks to you fuckass." I told him. "What do you want anyway?" I asked him, reaching for my shades. But while I did so I couldn't help but notice a soft sobbing sound coming from my little asswipe of a bro. Man I fucking hate it when he cries. FUCKING HATE IT. But even though I hate it when he does, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the little guy. I sighed and got out of my bed and the moment I did so I got tackled by my little brother. I didn't quite know what to do though so we just stood there for some time just awkwardly hugging each other while he was crying his tiny bitch heart out. He was telling me this story but I couldn't understand a single fuck at first. "Bro chill man just try to keep your cool." I told him. "O-okay." He managed to bring out. "W-well, I just feel fucking terrible bro." He said, with a cough intruding his sobbing. "Everything hurts it's not even ironic man." That's the last thing I could understand really, he started sobbing again after that and just blurred out words randomly. Since I had no fucking idea what was going on I decided to check up on the little bro and I placed my hand on his forehead. "Wow bro you got some sick fires going on man." I laughed, trying to cheer the little fucker up. It didn't do much though, so I eventually lifted the crying Strider and brought him back to his bed. I was about to leave again when he yanked my shirt. "B-bro?" he asked me, his voice cracking because of his sore throat. "C-can you maybe tuck me i-in?" I sighed. "Fine. But just this fucking once okay?" I replied, tucking my little brother in and then leaving him so he could rest.