Naked Girls and the White Rabbit
By Melissa King
Copyright © 2011 Melissa King
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I owned the losing hand in rock, paper, scissors. That meant the job of retrieving the dirty magazines fell to me. This wasn’t even my house. Kevin and Russ had funny ideas about guests. No special treatment. I had to sleep on the floor, sometimes without a blanket. And I was bound to throw in a fist for jugging at the chance to eliminate myself from sneaking down to the den, passing the pickled-drunk Mr. Branagh half-sleeping with a gun on his chest, getting the porn hidden in the cigar humidor, and sneaking back upstairs unnoticed. I had no luck. It was always me. I had to wonder if the brothers conspired against me, but I was probably the best choice anyway. They were likely to end up beat while I’d just be banished for a month or so if we got caught.
I’d watched enough TV to know about diversions. I had to make up one for us. The Branagh house looked perpetually ransacked. Mrs. Branagh worked all night and slept all day. The dad kept the opposite shift. The den was the worst--a nuked Hiroshima confined to a single room with Mr. Branagh starring as the lone mutant survivor. Well, I knew from my own home life, that a kid doing chores was about the only time a parent and siblings would back off and leave him the hell alone. Kevin and Russ had three sisters. The baby wasn’t much trouble penned up in the crib most of the time. The older sisters preoccupied themselves with sneaking boyfriends in their room when they weren’t escaping out their window to meet boys.