02-27-2011, 01:18 AM
***This is a fictional story I made up, it's pretty evil, let me know what you think Comments are welcomed, good or bad, either is fine!***
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I was 10, and my younger brother -- Jack -- was 8 at the time of the accident. We fought on more or less a daily basis as kids! ...and we were sworn enemies from the very beginning. There was always a nice competetive jest between us, but often it would escalate to violence and petty point-scoring. Seems like we were always battling in one way or another.
One day back then we were actually getting along okay, and were playing wrestling (play fighting - nothing vindictive). I watched a lot of wrestling back then, and the move that really impressed me was the Tombstone Piledriver - I was a kid and wanted to try it out on Jack.
He agreed...
Now before I go any further, If you don't know what the Tombstone Piledriver is watch this 15 second clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMwA0BgndUU
Basically you hold a person upside down in the air and then drop them straight onto their head! Obviously the wrestlers on TV are trained professionals who have skills that have taken a lifetime of dedication to materialise - they are masters in avoiding accidents and taking good falls.
Well...
Jack -- being so utterly naive in hidsight -- agreed to let me try it on him.
He climbed onto my shoulders after standing behind me on top of the couch. I held him upside down with his head facing downwards toward the floor. The distance between his head and the floor was at least 2 foot. I wasn't strong enough to carry him properly, so he fell .... 2 feet from the floor directly onto his skull.
The agonizing snap instantly told me there was something wrong. Blood trickled from his ears, he wasn't moving. I was paralyzed with fear (...see what I did there!)
Eventually I came to my senses and screamed out to our parents. Once mum and dad came to the scene it was all a bit of a haze. The paramedics came, but only Dad went to the hospital with him - Mum stayed at home with me. I guess they were trying to protect me and didn't want me to see my brother hooked up to all the cables, so it appeared that they had no idea it was me who actually caused his injury.
After about 48hours Mum and I were allowed to see him. He was hooked up to a machine, completely brain dead. He wouldn't respond if you called his name, if you touched his hand, or even if you punched his leg. Totally unconscious. I poked my finger up his nose: he didn't even flinch. They said he could die if they turned the machine off.
It was clear - he was a freakin vegetable.
Fast forward 15 years....
Mum and Dad have now died (sadly). They left a nice inheritance - a property and considerable savings. The only thing that pissed me off about them kicking the bucket was that I was now deeemed my vegged-out mong brother's "main carer".
"fudge this", I thought. "He's going into a care home - I'm not having a freakin mong dribbling all over the carpet".
I'd already liaised with a few establishments (or "nut houses" as they are also known) and the plan was to dump him into whichever Nut House cost the cheapest. Then - out of the blue - a letter arrived that changed everything....
"*****FROM: Social Security DHSS******
****Jack, we are pleased to inform you that your Severe Disablement Allowance has been increased to £204.90 per week. Also, we need to advise you that your DLA payments have been increased to £95.50 as you qualify for both the Care and Mobility components. Please find the Giro cheque enclosed - if you are unable to cash it at the Post Office yourself you can authorise a relative/close friend to do this for you.****
JACK-freakin-POT!
First thing I did was cash the Giro. Second thing I did was buy a twenty stone of crack. Thirdly, I resigned from my regular job with immediate effect. Fourthly I put in a claim for Carers Allowance and was awarded £75.70 per week for "looking after"(LOL!) Jack.
And we all lived happily ever after. I make sure Jack gets fed enough to stay alive - I'm not senselessly mean, that's silly. Because obviously if he dies I lose all my benefit paydays. Only a fool would think otherwise!
Although it's not all about exploitation and window-licking with me and Jack:- we do have our moments... I can slowly see Jack's mind turning itself back on. When I raise my arm he flinches, so obviously he has regained enough brain cells to remember that when I raise my arm he usually gets hurt. That's a big improvement from the days when I used to torture him, when he first turned into a veg. I wouldn't even get so much as eye movement if I drew blood with a blade.
In the future -- the very near future in fact -- I hope to be the recipient of a life insurance policy worth over £100,000
Jack is a veg, so as soon as the parents kicked it I took out a mega life insurance policy for him. The way I see it, he's pretty much 99% likely to die several years before I do.
The chances of this happening may increase to 100%, and it may happen very soon. Especially if we get a "powercut" and his life support machine is turned off for over 15 minutes. This could happen when I am seen by many people shopping at the local supermarket at 3pm. There is also the strong possibility I may have paid someone to cut the circuit wires to my home whilst I am shopping - (being seen by several people, giving me a cast iron alibi).
So, with that in mind, I'm off to go shopping!
x x x x x x x
------------------------------------
------------------------------------
I was 10, and my younger brother -- Jack -- was 8 at the time of the accident. We fought on more or less a daily basis as kids! ...and we were sworn enemies from the very beginning. There was always a nice competetive jest between us, but often it would escalate to violence and petty point-scoring. Seems like we were always battling in one way or another.
One day back then we were actually getting along okay, and were playing wrestling (play fighting - nothing vindictive). I watched a lot of wrestling back then, and the move that really impressed me was the Tombstone Piledriver - I was a kid and wanted to try it out on Jack.
He agreed...
Now before I go any further, If you don't know what the Tombstone Piledriver is watch this 15 second clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMwA0BgndUU
Basically you hold a person upside down in the air and then drop them straight onto their head! Obviously the wrestlers on TV are trained professionals who have skills that have taken a lifetime of dedication to materialise - they are masters in avoiding accidents and taking good falls.
Well...
Jack -- being so utterly naive in hidsight -- agreed to let me try it on him.
He climbed onto my shoulders after standing behind me on top of the couch. I held him upside down with his head facing downwards toward the floor. The distance between his head and the floor was at least 2 foot. I wasn't strong enough to carry him properly, so he fell .... 2 feet from the floor directly onto his skull.
The agonizing snap instantly told me there was something wrong. Blood trickled from his ears, he wasn't moving. I was paralyzed with fear (...see what I did there!)
Eventually I came to my senses and screamed out to our parents. Once mum and dad came to the scene it was all a bit of a haze. The paramedics came, but only Dad went to the hospital with him - Mum stayed at home with me. I guess they were trying to protect me and didn't want me to see my brother hooked up to all the cables, so it appeared that they had no idea it was me who actually caused his injury.
After about 48hours Mum and I were allowed to see him. He was hooked up to a machine, completely brain dead. He wouldn't respond if you called his name, if you touched his hand, or even if you punched his leg. Totally unconscious. I poked my finger up his nose: he didn't even flinch. They said he could die if they turned the machine off.
It was clear - he was a freakin vegetable.
Fast forward 15 years....
Mum and Dad have now died (sadly). They left a nice inheritance - a property and considerable savings. The only thing that pissed me off about them kicking the bucket was that I was now deeemed my vegged-out mong brother's "main carer".
"fudge this", I thought. "He's going into a care home - I'm not having a freakin mong dribbling all over the carpet".
I'd already liaised with a few establishments (or "nut houses" as they are also known) and the plan was to dump him into whichever Nut House cost the cheapest. Then - out of the blue - a letter arrived that changed everything....
"*****FROM: Social Security DHSS******
****Jack, we are pleased to inform you that your Severe Disablement Allowance has been increased to £204.90 per week. Also, we need to advise you that your DLA payments have been increased to £95.50 as you qualify for both the Care and Mobility components. Please find the Giro cheque enclosed - if you are unable to cash it at the Post Office yourself you can authorise a relative/close friend to do this for you.****
JACK-freakin-POT!
First thing I did was cash the Giro. Second thing I did was buy a twenty stone of crack. Thirdly, I resigned from my regular job with immediate effect. Fourthly I put in a claim for Carers Allowance and was awarded £75.70 per week for "looking after"(LOL!) Jack.
And we all lived happily ever after. I make sure Jack gets fed enough to stay alive - I'm not senselessly mean, that's silly. Because obviously if he dies I lose all my benefit paydays. Only a fool would think otherwise!
Although it's not all about exploitation and window-licking with me and Jack:- we do have our moments... I can slowly see Jack's mind turning itself back on. When I raise my arm he flinches, so obviously he has regained enough brain cells to remember that when I raise my arm he usually gets hurt. That's a big improvement from the days when I used to torture him, when he first turned into a veg. I wouldn't even get so much as eye movement if I drew blood with a blade.
In the future -- the very near future in fact -- I hope to be the recipient of a life insurance policy worth over £100,000
Jack is a veg, so as soon as the parents kicked it I took out a mega life insurance policy for him. The way I see it, he's pretty much 99% likely to die several years before I do.
The chances of this happening may increase to 100%, and it may happen very soon. Especially if we get a "powercut" and his life support machine is turned off for over 15 minutes. This could happen when I am seen by many people shopping at the local supermarket at 3pm. There is also the strong possibility I may have paid someone to cut the circuit wires to my home whilst I am shopping - (being seen by several people, giving me a cast iron alibi).
So, with that in mind, I'm off to go shopping!
x x x x x x x
