My brother is at an age, and I am at an age where his friends come over and he uses me like I’m the court jester. He tells me to fake trip over the bottom of the La-Z-Boy and I do and it’s real and it hurts, and all his friends are laughing and I like how it sounds with all their changing boy voices and changing girl voices mixing together.

I take breaks in the living room while they are in the basement drinking sodas and eating chips and it smells bad in there. In the living room, I inspect any possible damage to my shins, to my wrists, if my elbow hits where it’s funny and it tingles too long and won’t go away.

There’s a doggy-door in the kitchen where the cat goes through for his litterbox in the basement. I stick my head in there. I plan on getting stuck for a laugh. They are down there watching a movie. There are fights where there are skateboards for weapons. The kids downstairs crack jokes during a sex scene, but they get quiet because it goes on so long.

My brother starts up the stairs and sees me in the doggy-door. My jaw is wide open. It’s stuck that way. My brother crawls to where my head is and copies how my mouth hangs down.

I can’t wait for the house to be quiet. I’ll have to sneak down to the basement. I’ll make sure the tape is rewound so that we don’t get in trouble with the video rental shop. I’ll press play on the rewind whenever there is something that might relax my jaw so I can brush my teeth and go to bed and grow up as fast as I can.