Tongue twisters. The only thing he could think of were tongue twisters. And dirty jokes. And bad puns. Nothing serious, nothing deep, and nothing you would say at a time like this.
A nurse appeared and quietly beckoned for the Rodríguez family to follow her. Twister slid off the bench and followed his mother and father into the dimly lit hospital room. Cold. The temperature must have dropped 10 degrees upon entering the room. Twister wished he'd grabbed his hoodie before he left. He squinted, trying to make out something in the room that was comforting. But it was a generic hospital room, devoid of all touches of personality. Just a room with whirring machines, a large leafy potted plant, and a think, gauzy curtain.
Looking at the curtain made Twister's stomach lurch. His tongue seemed to have tied itself in knots. He didn't want to get any closer to that curtain, and hesitated a few steps back. His parents had no such qualms and continued forward. To his horror, the nurse reached up and pulled the curtain back.
He jumped when he heard a knock at the door, but relaxed when he realized Lars never knocked. "Hello mi hijo? Are you hungry?" His mother stood smiling in the doorway. The smell of freshly baked sugar cookies wafted in from the kitchen, making his mouth water.
"Yes I am!" he replied, jumping off the bed to follow his mother into the kitchen. Waiting at the table was a plate of warm sugar cookies and...Lars, shoveling in cookies by the handful. Twister scowled, taking a seat as far from his brother as possible.
"I thought you were going surfing?" Twister asked, reaching for a cookie.
"Always time for cookies," he grunted spraying bits of cookie everywhere.
"Maurice. Lars. I think the two of you should spend some more quality time together. Which is why you two will spend the day together. Without your friends." Lars, with his mouth open and a cookie hovering in front of his face, was the first to protest.
"Whaa? But mom!"
"Lars Rodriguez! Are you telling me you don't want to spend time with your little brother? Who looks up to you and wants to be just like you?"
"Whaa? No I don't!" interrupted Twister. His mom whipped around to stare at her youngest in shock. "He's a bully! And he's always mean to me! Why would I want to be around someone like him? In fact, I wish that I didn't even have a brother. Do you know how cool that would be, a world without Lars?"
"Maurice Rodriguez! How could you say things like that about your brother? He loves you!" Mrs. Rodriguez was both hurt and angered by her sons reactions. Didn't they realize how important they were to each other? She was very close with her brother and sisters, considering her friendship with them to be among the most precious things in her life.
"Whatever. Thanks for the cookies mom." Lars pushed away from the table-using a bit more force than was necessary-and stomped towards the front door. "Pi and Sputz are waiting for me. Later...much!"
With a sigh, Mrs. Rodriguez turned back to Twister, wearing a sad frown, "Why do you two always fight? Can't you just try to get along?"
Twister shrugged, unsure of what to say. He was afraid his mother might punish him for speaking his mind-that he was better off without Lars.
"Oh go on out. Your brother already left; you might as well." Twister bounced off his chair, kissed his mom good-bye, only stopping to grab one last cookie before zipping out the door.
"Later…much!" he called.
Mrs. Rodriguez stared sadly at the crumbs on the empty plate. With a sigh, she picked up the plate and set it in the sink for washing.
"He's in a very delicate state. Until we know for sure how he responds, the doctor wants him disturbed as little as possible. You can let him know you are here; just speak softly." Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez nodded in acknowledgement.
So what are we supposed to do? Just stand here and watch? Twister thought bitterly.
Apparently yes, as both his parents took their places beside the bed. Mrs. Rodriguez was on the verge of tears. She gripped her husband's hand tightly; he responded by bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. Choking back sobs, she softly cooed, "My baby, my poor baby."
Twister wished he was any place but in this hospital room. His stomach lurched about, guilt eating away at him. He desperately wished Lars would wake up, saying "gotcha dork", pretending this was all one big joke. But the reality was that Lars was in the ICU, unresponsive and unable to breathe on his own.
Twister couldn't bring himself to look at Lars. He focused on his parents instead, the closest he'd come to looking at the bed and its occupant.
What am I doing here? I shouldn't be here. This is all my fault.
"…a world without Lars…" He began to really think about what life without Lars would be like. No more hockey; Twister would forever associate the sport with his brother. His brother lived hockey. Ever since Twister could remember, Lars had been obsessed with hockey. The whole reason Twister even played was because he watched Lars play it. Lars, though he did a lot of complaining, had taught Twister to skate and play so he could have someone to practice with. He grinned, remembering how Lars would always make him carry the equipment. And when his mother would scold Lars, Twister would protest, claiming he liked carrying the stuff. It had made him feel special when he helped his older brother. Lars and Twister had even played on the same team for a brief time, until Lars aged out and formed his own team with Pi and Sputz. Twister secretly enjoyed it when his brother filled in on his team; it was like the Rodriguez brothers were back together. And man, when they were together, few teams stood a chance against them!
"Lars?" whispered Twister, finally looking at his brother. Reaching out to touch Lars's exposed hand, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was his father.
Twister felt his eyes burn. He blinked rapidly, trying to catch the tears before they fell. Life without Lars meant no more ghost stories, no more scares period. Twister readily admitted he was a scaredy-cat; he barely could make it more than 15 minutes into Dream-eater on Main Street. But why he would hang on Lars's every word astounded him and everyone that knew him. He knew that 9 times out of 10 Lars was pulling his leg, but then he'd think, what if Lars was telling the truth? Then he barricade the door to his room and build a fortress out his mattress to survive the zombie/alien/giant monkey invasion.
But not all of Lars's stories were malicious. Sometimes they were funny, like when they were doing chores, and Lars would impersonate teachers, relatives or celebrities. He was good at voices, and always made Twister crack up. And on rare occasions, like when Twister and he had come down with chicken pox at the same time, or when Twister was younger and would have a nightmare, it was Lars's room he would sneak into, and Lars would tell all sorts of stories until Twister fell asleep.
Why had he said those awful things, those lies? Sure, in the moment he was pissed, but how could he have meant it? That life would be better? Words spoken in anger and hate only, and now they were the last things his brother would have heard. Not true, they weren't true. Twister never hated Lars. But Lars might not know that. He might…
The realization that Lars could die hit him hard, leaving him breathless. He sank into one of the available chairs a nurse had thoughtfully provided, head swimming, and tried to stop the barrage of thoughts that struck him now-Lars in the last suit he'd ever wear, a grave that read "Beloved Son and Brother", the empty room. It was too much. Twister bolted, startling his mother and father. He nearly barreled over the nurse but he couldn't stop running. Faster and faster he fled down the steps and out the doors into the sunlight, but he couldn't outrun the pain, the guilt, or the fear.
Without a destination, he ran, not caring if he stumbled into shoobies, friends, or the occasional trash can. He ran until his lungs burned and his vision blurred. Blinking, he found himself standing before the counter of the Shore Shack.
"Hey O-Man! How's it hanging, bro?"
"Twist! You'll never believe it! Look what we found!" Otto waved Twister over to the Shack's countertop, where a large dusty box and numerous pictures lay scattered. With a mischievous grin, Otto picked up a photo and handed it to Twister. "Enjoy!"
"What am I supposed to be enjoying?" asked Twister as he looked down at the faded picture in his hands, a picture of several young boys. One of the boys looked familiar…
"Is this...Raymundo?" asked Twister, astonished. Otto nodded, laughing too hard to answer.
"Look...closer…" he panted, gesturing to the photograph.
Twister brought the photo closer and examined it carefully. In the picture, two boys had their arms around each other and where smiling cheekily into the camera. The third, however, was glaring darkly at the boys.
"Whoa? Who put a sand crab in your swimming trunks Raymundo?" asked Twister, laughing heartily at the picture.
"Contrary to popular opinion, it's not as funny as it sounds," snapped Ray.
Twister stopped laughing. "Huh?"
Otto laughed harder, having already heard the story before. Ray ignored him, pulling up a seat and gently snatching the photo out of Twister's hand.
"My brothers thought it would be funny to put an actual sand crab in my trunks while I was napping. And apparently, Granny Rocket thought it would be an excellent photo opportunity. Boy was I mad at them."
"Tell me about. Older brothers are the worst."
"Actually, I'm the middle brother," corrected Ray. "And while my older brother did have a wicked sense of humor, it was my younger brother who was always the instigator. If he wasn't borrowing my board he was trying to swipe the keys to Davy's car. Not to mention he knew all the dirt on us. And if we ever tried to retaliate, he'd hightail it to mom faster that Tito can say "The Ancient Hawaiians have a saying…"
"Wait, your little brother picked on you? What was his secret?"
"Well, I've always thought mom liked him best. She was always yelling at me and Davy." Using a high, feminine sounding voice, Ray began mimicking his mother. "Stop picking on little Nicky. He didn't mean to knock over your sand castle. Can't you boys just get along? I don't care what he did, he's your little brother." Ray laughed, remembering his childhood.
Twister looked sad. "So no matter what, having brothers sucks. Man, I wish I was an only child."
"Now hold up. I loved every minute I spent with my brothers, older and younger, though at the time I might not have enjoyed it."
"Really?"
"Yep. Davy taught me how drive. And surf. I remember the day he gave me his old surfboard. I still treasure that board." He smiled fondly at an old memory. "I bet it's in the basement somewhere."
Tito laughed. "I remember that old board. It was an ugly board, no wonder he gave it to you." Ray laughed along, agreeing.
"Yeah, it was. But Davy owned it. And that made it the best."
"Uncle Davy was cool back then too?" asked Otto. Ray raised an eyebrow.
"I guess so. Not as cool as your old man." Tito rolled his eyes, but wisely held his tongue.
"And what about Uncle Nick? What did he ever do for you?" asked Otto, with Twister eagerly listening.
"Ah. Nick. What can I say? He was always up for anything, any time. And it wasn't always Davy and Nick against me. Nick and I pranked Davy far more than he ever got us."
"See, that's not fair! You got cool brothers. I just have Lars." Twister groaned, and slumped over on the bar. Tito slid a glass of lemonade his way. "Thanks Tito."
"Yeah, Twister really got the short end of the stick when it came to brothers."
"Now, I think you guys are being a little harsh on Lars," Ray said. Otto looked skeptical.
"Harsh on Lars? Come on! He makes Twister's life miserable."
"Yeah. I'm miserable, all thanks to him," agreed Twister sadly.
"Right. So Lars has never done you any favors or had your back?"
"Right."
"Ahem" coughed Ray. He looked pointedly at Twister.
"What? He's never-"
Otto interrupted Twister, not wanting to miss a chance to bust on his best buddy. "We could get Lars to smash their castle," mocked Otto. Twister scowled.
"And what did he do? He smashed mine instead!" shouted Twister, his voice cracking.
"Yeah, but what happened when the tide came in? You took off running to get help. And who did you run too?" Otto asked.
"Lars but-"
Ray interrupted this time. "I was there. He came and helped protect that amazing sand pier you guys made." He and Otto exchanged grins while Twister sighed.
"Okay, one time."
"Hmm...I distinctly remember one little cuz bumming because some new bruddah came in and swiped his brand new mountain bike. After he left it lying around. I wonder whatever happened to that mountain bike." Tito now joined the conversation.
"Oh yeah. The mountain bike. Hehehe." Twister rubbed the back of his neck. "Lars did go and find the guy who took it."
"Yeah, and gave him a nasty shiner. Remember how he cried when he saw Lars coming?" added Otto.
"And what about all the times he's filled in for you guys in hockey?" argued Ray.
"He only did that because his team had already lost," Twister argued weakly. But even he admitted defeat. "Okay, so Lars isn't so bad after all. I just wish he'd stop picking on me so much."
"It's called tough love," grinned Ray.
"Uh-oh. Speaking of tough to love, here come Pi and Sputz," Otto said, pointing out the two teens.
"Great. That means Lars isn't far off" sighed Twister. He slumped further in his seat. "Hide me till he's gone?"
"He's not with them Twist. At least I don't see him," said Otto, straining to get a better look. Sure enough, Pi and Sputz walked up without Lars.
"Hey Twister! Tell your kook of a brother it's not cool to keep your friends waiting."
Twister sat up in his seat and looked at the two in surprise. "Whaddya mean?"
"I mean what I said. We waited over an hour for him to show. If he's got better things to do, he could at least let us know."
"You mean he didn't head over to beach?" asked Twister. Pi shook his head. "So Lars isn't with you?"
"No, we haven't seen him all day," snapped Pi, annoyed. "What is this, twenty questions? Sorry I even said anything." The two scarfed down their burgers and left, not saying another word to Twister.
"Gee, I hope Lars is okay," sighed Twister. Otto rolled his eyes.
"That is just like you. One minute you're all 'Oh I hate my brother, he's so mean.' But if the slightest thing happens, you're all 'Oh Lars, he's my big brother, I'm so worried about him.'"
"You don't understand Otto. It's a brother thing. Right Raymundo?" Twister asked, turning to Ray. Ray nodded. "Thanks for the drink Tito!"
"Any time little cuz!" chuckled Tito. Twister jumped of the stool, startling Otto.
"Where are you going?"
"To find Lars. Maybe he decided to visit Madtown instead. He probably lied about where he was going to get mom off his back." Otto rolled his eyes again.
"Good luck little cuz!" called Tito as Twister ran off. He turned to Ray. "I thought you hated your brothers."
"Hate is a strong word my friend. Let's just say there was great animosity."
"Little Twister cuz! Where's the fire?" Tito said ushering Twister into seat and offering him a glass of water.
Twister gulped down the water, relieving his uncomfortably dry mouth. Tito watched him with concern, patiently waiting for Twister to collect himself. Twister finished the water and slammed the glass down on the table. Anger surged through him, and he just wanted to be left alone.
"Nothing Tito. Later," he snapped, trying to get away. But Tito held fast to his arm.
"No. You are going to sit and rest. You're moments away from passing out. You don't have to talk. Just catch your breath. Holler if you need more water."
Twister collapsed irritably back in his chair. "Whatever. More water I guess."
Tito nodded, ignoring the edge in Twister's voice, and left to fetch a pitcher of water. He returned instead with some lemonade. "Here. Maybe this will pep up your spirits."
Twister took the glass without responding. His tongue felt heavy and thick, causing him to choke and spew lemonade across the counter.
"Little cuz, what's wrong?" asked Tito, placing his hand on Twister's shoulder. Before he could react, Twister buried his head in Tito's belly and began to bawl. "Let it out. Let it all out. As the Ancient Hawaiians used to say 'Time heals all, but only after you've sucked out the poison."
Twister looked up at Tito and howled. "Lars is dying and it's all my fault!"
"What? I'm sure you did no such thing. What happened?" But Twister couldn't speak for several moments. Tito found a clean corner of his apron and wiped away the tears. "Twister cuz, tell me what happen," he said gently.
Twister, sniffing, explained the morning argument, the bitter exchange, and the accident-how a shoobie kook had run a stop sign and hit Lars on his way to the beach. Tito listened, never once interrupting, even when Twister broke down and his words became unintelligible.
"I went to see him, but I didn't want to look. I watched my parents instead. And they looked so sad, especially my mom. I could see the fear in her eyes. And I knew why. I couldn't take it-the silence, the sadness, the shame. I left...I left my brother to die." Twister broke into a fresh wave of sobs. "He'll spend all eternity thinking I hated him because I couldn't tell him that wasn't true." He turned to Tito and clutched his arm, eyes wide and red. "What if he never wakes up and I never get to say goodbye?"
"Those are some pretty big what ifs. But you know, loving someone isn't confined to words alone. Though powerful, words are just one expression of love. And as you've found out, words don't always reflect our true feelings. What you said to your brother is a perfectly natural thing for brothers to say to one another. And sisters to sisters, and brothers to sisters, and sisters to brothers. Even cousins to cousins! Did you mean it? Of course not; that was the anger talking, not the love. You are not to blame for Lars's accident." Tito paused, letting the words sink in as Twister thought in silence. He shifted in his seat, unable to look up at Tito.
"But I wished…"
"Do you get everything you wish for? If so, let me on the secret cuz. How many times have you been in here, groaning about Lars and telling Sam how lucky he was that he was an only child? Or tell Otto that he was lucky to have a sister like Reggie and not a brother like Lars? I seem to recall the phrase "I wish..." was dropped quite a bit. And did you get an older sister like Reggie?"
"No. But now all my wishes are being cashed in; I wished one too many times." Twister bowed his head. Tito, scratching his head, watched the miserable figure before him and struggled to find a way to convince him that he was not at fault.
"Do you think Lars would hate me for all eternity?" Twister posed the question to Tito suddenly. Lightly chuckling, Tito gave Twister another hug.
"Twister, no one could hate you for long. Especially not your brother."
"What do you mean?"
"This may come as a shock to you, but Lars cares more about you than you think. I've seen him, casually strolling by the Shack, checking to see if you're here or not. Have you never noticed his habit of always turning up where you are, be it surfing, hockey, or mountain boarding?"
"Yeah. I just thought that was him being annoying."
"That was Lars being a big brother. Sure, he may have pushed you in the dirt or knocked you off your board to save face, but behind all that tough attitude, that was your brother looking out for you. And making sure Otto wasn't giving you a hard time. To him, it's okay to knock you about and mess with you, but nobody else. It's a brother thing, remember?"
"Do you really think that's true?"
"I know so, little cuz. Families can make our lives more difficult, but they can help us through the more difficult times in our lives. Stay here for as long as you need. When you are ready, I will take you back to the hospital to be with your family."
"I think I'm ready now. Could you take me home first? There are some things I want to grab."
"If I was Lars, were would I go?" Twister, having returned home and grabbed his skateboard, headed over to Madtown. Even though he knew Lars wouldn't be caught dead skating with a bunch of shoobies, he could at least get a lead to his older brother's whereabouts.
"Hey Conroy? Have you seen Lars anywhere?" he called to the owner of Madtown, and a very good friend of his.
"No, I haven't. I got better tings ta do than keep tabs on your brahda!" snapped a frazzled Conroy.
"I can see you busy, I'll let you get back to...whatever you are doing." Twister watched as Conroy narrowly avoided being ran over by a pair of obnoxious shoobies using two lashed together skateboards as a cart.
"Not at Madtown, not at the Shack, not with his friends," listed off Twister. His stomach flipped over as feelings of unease began to wash over him. "I guess I can try the beach. He did say he wanted to go surfing"
As usual, it was packed with locals and tourists, making it difficult for Twister to pick out his brother. He could see a bunch of surfers out in the distance, but none that he recognized as Lars. He decided to search farther down the beach, figuring Lars would head to one of the more secluded spots to surf, if he was even surfing. Twister was running out of places to look.
Leaving behind the screams and roar of the crowds for the screams of gulls and the roar of the waves, Twister paddled out to one of the spots he and his friends usually frequented, and on occasion, fought over with Lars and his friends.
No one appeared to be there, though there were signs of a recent surfing party; the remnants of a beach bonfire, a couple of empty bottles, and footprints everywhere. Twister sighed, sitting down on the sandy beach. He looked glumly out at the water. The peaceful scene allowed his thoughts to drift, and the ill-feeling turned into genuine concern. Lars usually would turn up by now. It wasn't like him to vanish without his friends. Unless this was some stupid prank.
Officer Shirley stopped him as he walked along the pier back home. There had been an accident and she needed to take him home. He rode up front instead of the back, which was normally where she put the munchkins after she caught them misbehaving. Taking up most of the backseat was a box containing a busted surfboard. Twister recognized the star pattern on the board.
Tito walked Twister back to the hospital, carrying a large box with food from the Shack. He said he had been in the hospital a while back, and nothing quite hit the spot like a Shore Shack pineapple fruit smoothie. Twister only smiled, knowing his parents would at least appreciate the gesture. Twister didn't arrive empty-handed; he too carried a large cardboard box.
The same nurse from earlier greeted him in the hallway. She didn't appear to be mad about him nearly plowing over her. Instead she had a big smile on her face and joined them. While she and Tito exchanged pleasantries, Twister focused on what he was going to say during this visit. He was not going to have his tongue tie itself in knots again. He had a plan and nothing was going to trip him up this time.
Except finding Lars sitting up in bed eating jello.
"Lars! You're awake."
"You're right," drawled Lars, though with some effort. To Twister, his voice had a wheezy rasp to it. Regardless, Twister was overjoyed to have his brother awake and talking.
"Isn't this a wonderful surprise?" asked his mom, beaming with a misty-eyed expression. "The doctor says he will have to stay a day or so for monitoring, but he can come home soon."
"That's great mom," Twister replied. He came to stand beside the bed, still holding the box.
Tito, not wanting to ruin a family moment, set the box of food down and let the Rodríguezes know that he and the Rockets were always available if they ever needed anything. He left the family to their happy reunion.
"What's in the box Maurice?" asked his dad. Without responding right away, Twister placed the box on the floor and began removing its contents. He pulled out a stack of comic books, a large quilt, some folded up posters, and a family portrait taken during last year's Cinco de Mayo celebration.
"Being in the hospital makes me uncomfortable," explained Twister sheepishly. "I thought if I made the room look more like home, it might help Lars wake up. I guess it was a silly thing to do."
"Oh no, it was a very thoughtful and wonderful thing for you to do. I'm sure your brother appreciates it." Mrs. Rodriguez glanced meaningfully at Lars, who was too engrossed in one of the comics to notice. She was about to scold him, but reconsidered. She hugged Twister instead, and kissed his forehead. "Thank you Maurice."
"Yes, thank you Maurice. I'm sure it will make Lars's stay much more comfortable having all these familiar things around him. Will you sit with Lars while your mother and I take care of some paperwork?"
"Sure dad."
After hugging both Lars and Twister one more time, Mrs. Rodriguez followed the nurse and husband out of the room. Alone with Lars, Twister tried to remember his plan, but struggled to find the words. Lars seemed moody and agitated, and Twister recognized the warning signs of an imminent whomping.
"Fries?"
Startled, Twister just stared at Lars. Impatient, Lars rolled his eyes and snapped, "In the box, dork. Any fries?"
"Oh. I dunno. Tito packed it." He rummaged around, pulling out a large container of French fries. Lars reached for it, but Twister pulled back and hesitated. "Are you even allowed to have fries?"
"Whatever. Just give them here."
"But I don't-"
"Man, this blows. Stuck in the hospital eating this mushy crap food. And I busted my board." Lars flopped back, scowling at Twister.
"Not to mention almost dying." Twister added softly. Blinking back tears, he hid his face by repacking all the food.
"Yeah well…" Lars trailed off, watching Twister wander over to the comic books. He noticed that Twister was avoiding eye contact. Twister started fidgeting the comic books. He was trying to remember the rules for alphabetizing books. "So uh, thanks. For bringing this stuff."
"You're welcome."
An awkward silence lapsed, with Twister determinedly refusing to look at Lars. A minute ticked by, and another. The only sounds in the room was the hiss of Lars's oxygen and Twister nervously drumming his fingers on the table.
"So what's your deal?" demanded Lars suddenly. The darkness of his look and tone was too much for Twister. Believing Lars to be mad about his earlier remark, he broke down sobbing.
"Please don't hate me! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've never meant to wish for anything bad to happen," he babbled. He slumped down to the floor and continued to sob. "I'm sorry Lars. I'm sorry."
"Twister? What are you talking about? Stop crying! Mom's gonna come in and think I hit you or something."
Sniffing, Twister raised his head and looked at Lars. Something in his pathetic demeanor touched Lars, and instead of chucking his pillow at Twister, he decided that this was one of the rare moments when he needed to be nice.
"Twister, seriously. Stop crying. And why do you keep apologizing?"
"Because it's all my fault. You almost died, and it's all. My. Fault."
"You think this is your fault? What, did you tell that idiot driving that hunk of junk to nail me as I was crossing?"
"I wished you were gone. I wished for a world without you and you almost died."
"Twister, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Like you have the power to get rid of me, dork." He tried to laugh, only to escalate into a coughing fit. Twister rushed over with a cup of water wearing a look of panic that threatened to send Lars into a second fit of laughter. "I mean, do you know how many times that I wished you were gone? That I was an only child?"
"Me? What did I ever do to you?"
"Where do I begin? Let's start about how everyone always goes ga-ga over little Maurice. Lars, don't push your brother. I don't care that he spilled juice on your favorite jersey. Lars, take your little brother along. Lars, don't tease your brother. Lars, share your toys, your room, your life with your little brother. Since you were born, bro, that's all I ever hear about is how I have to take care of my little brother. Do you know how annoying that is? It's like I don't even get to have a life, unless it's watching over you."
Lars's words stung. So Raymundo and Tito were wrong. One of the few times in his life he was right about something and it had to be that Lars truly did not care about him. "Then I guess I'm sorry for ruining your life too."
"Twister, that's not what I meant. I mean yeah you're annoying, but it's also fun to pick on you. Plus, you could be worse. Like Rocket dork worse. So I guess what I'm saying, and you can never repeat this or tell anyone else, is that I kind of like having you for a little brother."
"Really? Do you mean that?"
"Let's not drag this out. Yes, I love you and all that shit. Now, bring me those damn fries."
Together, they flipped through the comic books and munched on the fries until Lars fell asleep. When his parents returned to take him home, he leaned over and whispered to Lars, "Get better soon, bro. I love you and all that shit too."