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  from You Can't Blame That On Me by Larry Thompson

The Wolf, Sleepy And Bushy

My brother says it never happened. but I know it did. I was there. I saw it.

My little brother and I have a problem with sibling rivalry. I call him my little brother. He's 15 months my junior but about three inches taller and 80 pounds heavier. He's losing his hair, as I am, but he's got bushy eyebrows, so he's got his bald forelock covered.

For a guy who is 6'3", he doesn't have much trouble being macho. Even so, when we two get together to travel somewhere, like from 8 p.m. to 2 am., machismo has to come out. Like who can drive the longest without giving in?

He began our trip home by driving first. Then around 12 a.m., he let me have the wheel. I was already sleepy because I always turn into a pumpkin at 10 p.m., but I believed if I could get past Guthrie, Texas, I could make it to Lubbock okay. Guthrie is one of those small country towns which is about a hundred miles from any other town of any significance.

As I drove, I was having problems keeping the pickup between the shoulders of the road and the white lines. The few lights of Guthrie had long since faded from the rear-view mirrors. The driving wasn't getting any easier for me. Then it happened. Super manliness awoke. I determined I would tough it out. I shook my head a few times and stretched my mouth and my eyes. I sat up straight then leaned hack a little. I had it under control

I herded the car down the road. Slowly, ever so slowly, my right eyelid started to droop. I fought it for a while, but finally decided, what the heck, I'd let my right eye get a little rest. I let my eyelid slide down over my eyeball and encase my eye in comfortable darkness.

Then, my left eye started to quiver. It wanted to join the other eye in comfortable darkness. My eyelid quivered up and down. I struggled to keep it open. Macho-ness was suffering.

Casually, in order not to attract Little Brother's attention. I reached up and held open my right eye. I grabbed the eyelashes and held them with my thumb against my forehead. My left eye didn't care. It just swayed gently back and forth in the socket.

Little Brother swung his ponderous bushy head partially toward me. He looked at me out of the corner of his left eye and grumbled, "Why are you rocking the car?"

Testosterone flowed with an adrenaline burst. I was awake again. I said, "Sorry, I thought my eye was rocking."

Desperate to maintain my one-upmanship, I finally managed to get both eyes open, but I had to hol...







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