You may be wondering why I picked the title, Orange Pop and Toothbrush Soap. If you've read previous posts, then you know about the Toothbrush Soap. Today, I shall regale you with the Orange Pop story. Hopefully, it will bring a smile to your face.
You see, when my older brother and I were kids, he was my hero (he still is, for that matter), and I wanted to be juuuuuuust like him. I listened to the same music he did, tried to dress how he did, attempted to accomplish the same things he accomplished. Even into my college years, I acquired my FCC license and became a radio DJ, because my brother did it, and if my brother did it, that meant it was cool.
Before I get into the rest of the story, I'd like to give a shout out to all you little sisters out there, who have faithfully clung to the pant leg of your superhuman older brothers. You've been brushed off, pushed away, taken advantage of in so many ways, and yet, have remained the ever-loyal, bright-eyed followers. This tale is for you....
Our mother used to take us to McDonald's restaurant for lunch. I'm not trying to make myself sound old, but in those days, the Happy Meal was relatively new, and you thought you were something else if you actually got one.
My brother and I would eat our Happy Meals, and take our miniature orange pops, in the waxy cups (remember those?) home with us in the car. In the back seat, we would sit, not crossing the middle line onto the other sibling's space, and then it would start...
"Hey, Michele, I bet I can drink my coke (in the south, it's ALL coke) faster than you can drink yours."
"No you can't."
"Yes, I can. Wanna race to see who can drink theirs faster?"
"Okay."
"Ready....... set....... GO!!"
The sucking and slurping would begin, and I would pucker as fast I could, fighting brain-freeze and that feeling that your nose is going to fall off and your eyeballs pop out from the high amount of carbonation. I would watch him intensely to make sure I was winning even though he was sucking it down as fast as me.
"DONE!" I would shout, panting and puffing, eyes watery from the effort.
"Awww," he'd say, "I guess you won."
Can you hear the triumphant music playing loudly? As I would begin to catch my breath after the intense moments, the realization that I had won would set in and victory would display it's banner over me. Those of you who have older siblings know that actually beating them in ANYTHING can only be compared to such feats like stopping a train.... climbing Mt. Everest..... leaping tall buildings in a single bound. The sheer satisfaction is worth more than nearly anything else in the kingdom of childhood.
As I would bask in the glory of winning, and Mom would begin the journey home in our army green Gran Torino, my brother would look proudly over at me and the words would ooze out of his mouth, "Gosh.... I bet you're thirsty."
I would clutch my cup, holding nothing but ice, in my little hand and realize that yes, I was indeed thirsty. Then, gazing wantingly at my brother, his bigger-than-life sinister grin illuminating the air, I would notice his cup, and how.... how... it was.... full?? You mean, he FAKE raced me? I won, though!!! But.....but..... somehow, I lost? He tricked me into drinking all that I had while he only pretended? My naive young mind could not possibly wrap itself around this concept.
Nevermind the slimy sarcasm that dripped from his lips, let's talk about the manipulation. Let's talk about the evil trickery he used on me. My victory.... his defeat... *sigh*. It would all fade into the distance as we would finish the ride home, him with his slurping delight, and me with my melting ice and dashed hopes. Can you HEAR the violins playing?
I can't tell you how many times I fell for tricks like this. As I have said before, it is a wonder my brother and I survived growing up, let alone ended up as friends. To all of you who have fallen into the traps of your wise older siblings, I salute you. Thanks for taking one for the team!
To all of you older siblings, throw us a bone now and then, would ya? I love you Brada-mon!
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