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My Savage Brother

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My Savage Brother

Thanksgiving dinner 2012 was about to start in less than 10 minutes and everyone was tired of snacking on olives and crackers. Our stomachs were rumbling and we were anxious, especially after catching a whiff of the the steaming turkey in the other room being cut and the sound of the electric knife carving the white meat like a chain saw slicing oak. “Alright everyone, gather around we're going to have a prayer.”

My great grandfather always said the prayer. The prayer ended shortly and my brother was shaking next to me of hunger. He threw my hand down and sprinted to the plates that were stacked neatly in a pile and started scooping mac and cheese from the aluminum container and forking the turkey and meat onto his plate. I saw him silently take a piece with his bare hands and stuff in down quick before anyone could see. “Wow bud, slow down a bit there” my dad said softly to not risk embarrassment of his son. He brought his pile of food back to his table, not wasting anytime for napkin placement on himself. He began scarfing. Yep my brother was a pig, there wasn't a doubt in my mind he cared what anyone else thought about his obnoxious style of “feasting”. We finished eating and there was ranch dripping off his face, he said abruptly “I hope someone bought pie.” I sat there in amazement.





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