Post Number Three - My New Brother

Okay, so last post, I promised I'd tell the story of my other new favourite person. You must bear in mind I have a lot of favourite people. An abridged list of these people includes myself, Morganne Foley, my family (even most of my extended family), my other family (the IB kids), Gorganne, any musician from Detroit, McNiv and Headbizzle, JFK, John Cleese, MoFo, the kids from middle school who I haven't seen in years (but who were favourites at the time and I have no reason to believe that this has changed) and of course Baby Girl. But right now I have a new topper to the list, a person who has made me happy more times this week than most people do in a year. His name is Pete. His is Steve's (where Steve = ex) roommate. He's known Steve pretty much his whole life. I've known him since the Dance in the Square on the second day of Orientation when he drunkenly (and, I like to think, lovingly) informed me "Dude! You're like, in my history class! Mannnn! High Five!" For the first month-and-a-half of school, I didn't really see Pete outside of History. To me he was a friendly acquaintance with whom I shared the knowledge that our History prof was a wingnut/dingbat combo. But nothing more. However, when I started hanging out with Steve, I started seeing a lot more of Pete and his adorable girlfriend Marly (where Marly = sweetheart) because, well, he and Steve shared a 'room' (read: 'Harry-Potter-before-he-knew-he-was-a-wizard-esque closet'). The four of us would lie in the room together and watch movies. Usually the boys chose them, so often the plots of the movies were less important than the set-ups for fart jokes. Nevertheless, we were happy. We were like a family. At first I thought that Steve and I were the parents in this family and Pete and Marly were the kids. But then I realized that Steve was sometimes not as mature as I was, so then I thought that Pete and Marly were the parents. Then I realized that Pete, god love him (see McNiv), was a boy, and was thus also born with the immaturity gene. So then I realized that our family was very progressive because it had two moms. Well, I guess I could say a mom and a dad; I would have been the dad of course - as I noted in the last post, I was the only man in my relationship with Steve, so I guess that qualifies me to be a dad too. But I digress. So, since the four of us had become pretty close, when Steve told Pete that he was going to break up with me, Pete was a little shaken up - and a little pissed. First he silently fumed, because there were other people in the room (I had not been informed of the break-up at this time - I was still in my room, thinking that Steve was still in Grand Falls). Then he whispered some nasty stuff to Steve. The he just got plain mad and told Steve off out loud, saying something akin to "Mickie's cool! Why would you do that to her?". Then, the icing on the cake - he looked at Steve (so the story goes) and said "And this weekend, while you were away, I had sex on your bed!" Now, I cannot personally prove the validity of this claim. It was probably just something Pete made up to irk Steve. Nevertheless, I like my mental image of Steve sleeping on top of a towel on his bed that night, counting down the hours until he could pull on his rubber gloves and give his Transformers sheets 2 or 3 good runs through the washer. So, this story couldn't get any better right? Well, it might not get better, but I can guarantee that it at least stays on the same level of enjoyability. A night or two after the break-up was Open Mic night at the Breezeway. I didn't go because, according to the government, I need to live for 5 more months before I'm mature enough to go into a bar to watch a band, not drink and see other people make fools of themselves. I'm old enough to make a contract though. Maybe I'll just buy a house and sit in it until I'm 19. Of course, I'll have to pay for it in cash, because I can't have a credit card either. Oh, the world we live in. But I digress again. That's an entirely different rant. I'm beginning to think that everything I say is a digression. So anyway, before he even goes to the Breezeway, Steve shows up, drunk, at my door, and starts writing some profanity or another on my whiteboard (nothing about me. Just profanity in general, because that is apparently amusing to boys - I'm learning that real-world boys are a lot different than IB boys). Happily, Pete shows up right behind him. I was going to say hi and thank him for being a good friend, but before I had a chance, he snuck up behind Steve, lined himself up, wound back and then delivered the most accurate and annihilating bag-tag that I've ever witnessed. Pete raised both fists in victory, like 8-time gold-medal-winning olympian Michael Phelps, as Steve crashed to the floor in agony. I'd being lying if I said that it wasn't one of the sweeter moments in my recent memory. Like I've said before, I'm not actually mad at Steve for anything, but as the broken-up-with party, I'm allowed a certain amount of free bitterness to spend as I choose. Well, Pete just made my night there. Steve was literally on the floor for a good 10 minutes, while I congratulated Pete on his skill, and then continued on a casual conversation with him. When Steve could walk again, he stopped in the bathroom to make an entry in the "Log Log" (I'll explain later. It's the bane of my/Morg's life in rez), then hobbled on to the Breezeway, where I'm sure he proceeded to enjoy himself immensely. Pete, on the other hand, stayed behind to talk to me. We had a wonderful heart-to-heart about the whole Steve situation and he promised that he and Marly would come visit me a lot because even though Steve and I ended on good terms, it's still kind of awkward for me to go up to their room. After our talk, I felt a million times better than I had before. He put everything in perspective for me. Really, my relationship with Pete got stronger because I broke up with Steve, which I find to be an unexpected, but not by any means unwelcome, by-product of the whole business. That's why Pete is one of my new favourite people. That's also why, the next time I see him, I'm going to make a proposal to him. I'm going to ask him if I can officially adopt him as my big brother. I've always wanted a big brother - someone who sticks up for you and is nice to you and punches boys in the nuts when they make you feel bad. Pete has done all of these things for me. He is a prime big brother candidate. And I'm not talking about the TV show, although I'm sure he could probably do that too. I couldn't. I'm just too darn nice to make it in reality TV. Gosh darn my wonderful personality! Well, that's more or less the story that I had to tell today. I hope it was funny and at least mildly entertaining. But I can't really tell when I'm in the middle of writing it, and I make it a point to NEVER proofread my work. That's for people who can't do it right the first time.