No really. We are – kind of.
If you think about it: your adoptive father and my real father are the same guy. That makes us, arguably, siblings. And I know that sibling rivalry is a common thing and maybe you’re just now learning about it and exploring your own depths and intricacies, but I’ve had a brother for all but the first year of my life, and I can tell you it’s not worth it. Resentment like that will eat you from the inside out, man.
So why don’t you just come out from behind that potted plant and stop treating me like I’m the Bogeyman, okay?
Really. It’s getting a little insulting.
Don’t you remember last night when you were sleeping on Dad’s bed and I went in and petted you and you purred and purred and then your eyes seemed to adjust and you gave me a look like, “Oh shit: it’s you. I thought you were someone else…” and then jumped down and darted under the bed? That was freaking rude. Especially since I thought we were finally having a breakthrough.
I don’t know what kind of manners Dad’s been teaching you (or not), but let me fill you in: it’s no way to treat someone scooping your digested remains from one box into another. Nice how your solitary confinement still allows you to produce copious amounts of crap.
I also notice you ate the entire bowl of 9 Lives Tuna Select (with flakes of real tuna!) I left out for you when I went to bed. Seems your hunger strike has its limits, eh Gandhi?
Fine. Whatever. Be that way. If you ask me, your loyalty is overrated. However, if you ask Dad, he’d probably be flattered at your continued sulking. Seems you may know which side your bread is buttered on afterall…