The Attack of the Pink Elephant

It is commonly known that I suffer from a condition called O.S.S. (Only-Sister Syndrome), which often evolves into S.O.S. under dire circumstances.

Having two ultra-competitive and ultra-insensitive brothers would drive lesser people over the edge (case in point: we once had another sister but she was weak and they ate her). As a Survivor, I have learned a few tricks of the trade, and one of them is exploitation.

Since it is my baby brother Jeek’s birthday tomorrow, allow me to share a few incriminating stories about him to help with my own healing. Y’see Jeek was actually born “Jade.” Around the “Tween” years when he refused to shower and constantly grabbed his crotch, the words “Jade” and “Geek” melded into one. Prior to their wedding, his wife once commented, “Funny. I never thought I’d marry a man named Jeek.” The joke’s on her.

It started young. When he was less than a year old, Mom had just changed baby Jeek and had left his diaper off while he played with his toy train. After a few minutes, we all heard a blood-curdling scream from the next room. We raced in there and the little pink elephant caboose had diverted off the track and onto poor little Jeek’s manhood. Even worse was his little trunk (the elephant’s, that is) was securely fastened around its prey. Poor little Jeek was inconsolable. Imagine the even poorer ER staff when they had to keep a straight face during the incident we refer to as only “The Pink Elephant.”

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