A day in the life of Mycah

Hello ladies and gentlemen,

So, I come home yesterday get all settled in lay in my bed and get ready to take a most deserved nap, WHEN! I hear the equivalent to a minotaur and maybe a centaur running down the stairs only to soon hear a rata tat tat on my bedroom door. My brother (the minotaur) peaks his head in and asks "Hey, Mycah can I show my friend your artwork?"

"Uh, I guess so." I replied with haste. I gave him my artbook and followed them to a different room to supervise this looky loo at my artwork. His "friend" is maybe 57 and not all there in the head. (Maybe from too many drugs! but maybe I am just assuming *cough*) As he looks through my artbook he is eating an apple and, let me just say, not everything stays in his mouth while he talks. So I watched in fear, waiting for some saliva/apple combination to just land upon my work.

While I stood and watched in fear I think he was rambling on about van gogh and about how my artwork resembled something from the magazine High Times. Who would think a man of his caliber would read High Times! anyways, my brother the meanwhile twitch's, shakes, and stutters in the background about :

"Oh my sister is just awesome, hey I got a tattoo at Convicted ink wanna see? (by the way not that good I couldnt even tell what was new tattoo and old tattoo) I can get you 1 karat diamonds for free cause I have connections."

All in that order and all at once! He's so sober its ridiculous! Anyways this goes on for what feels like a week. Then they finally leave. Now...This is not the end of the adventure that is my brother and the things I am subjected to on a daily basis. Me and Scott are downstairs watching Dog the Bounty hunter (tragic fore-shadowing) when we hear a pounding on the door. Now the time is like 9 p.m. and I highly doubt anyone from the neighborhood is just stopping bye at 9 to give us cookies. So we wait a little just to see if the door pounding goes away. It doesn't. It gets progressively louder. So Scott says "Look, I'll go upstairs with you if you answer that door." So we head upstairs.

I open the door and there stands 2 police officers! (MY LIFE IS SO AWESOME!) The lovely police officers started off with "Do you know where Brett is?!"

I reply with a "Uh no, I never know where he is."

"Are you his sister?!" he asks.

Still confused about the situation I replied with a hesistant "Uh yeah."

He turns to Scott, who is now shutting the door after letting them in and asks "And who are you the boyfriend?" Scott replies with "actually, I am the fiance." I dont get why he cares about who I am and who Scott is but oh well. He then proceeds to ask "Where is Brett? Does he live here?"

I reply with a lovely, "I dont know where he is. He disappears for days and is here other days. I dont keep track of him."

"Do you think he's out partying and using?" He asks.

I say with a most definite "Yes, I do think he is using." Now at this point my mom has decided to exit the comfort of her porceline throne room and stick her head out of her bedroom door upstairs. Now, here is a visual: She has turned off her bedroom light and is using the door to shield her body, from what I do not know. So all you see is a faint bobble head that somewhat resembles my moms face poking out of the small crack in the door. She yell's "Who's down there?!?!"

"Its Randy"

"Randy who?!"

"Randy, your son's parole officer"

"You are not allowed in our house without a warrant!" she says with such ignorant conviction.

"Ma'am if Brett lives here we don't need a search warrant to come into your home whenever we like. And unless you want your house to be searched he shouldn't live here."

She replied rudEly with "We'll see!" (can I ask...what the heck does that mean?!)

He replies right back to my snotty mother with a, "I will make sure he doesn't live here and he will have a curfew and a GPS system so we know where he is or he will go to jail."

Again she replies with a "We'll see!" (again...what?!)

He then turns back to me and Scott, pulls out a card and starts writing on it and says "Will you please tell your brother if he does not contact me by tomorrow he is going to jail." He then hands me his parole officer business card with a note that says "Brett, call me -Randy"

I take it, and with a cheerful voice I reply with "I Sure will." :-D

They then leave. And me and Scott live happily ever after!......
Who only knows what is going to happen to us next.

-The End