Now that i've laid down the general groundwork, allow me weave the tales of utter nonsense. Frankly, despite knowing this gluttonous git for most of my life, i can hardly remember him even leaving his room or doing much until the last few years of enduring his bullshit. I mean, there was the time he claimed to have designed the Bionicles,which my dumbass 6 year old self believed for almost two years. Then there was that time he claimed to have contacted SEGA and submitted his idea for a new game. Stupid, yes, but nothing really spectacular. Nevertheless, i present to you all the Trio of Turdness. ~~i didn't say all of my wordplay was gold, aight?~~ Tale #1; The Partial Purge of the Filth ​ Back in the bygone year of 2013, my parents decided that my brother and I should switch rooms, since i would be starting college soon and i'd need more room for a desk and whatnot. My family is mostly made up of "Big Picture" thinkers, but i digress. I agreed to the proposition, and like the obedient boy that i was, i had my disaster of a room all tidied up, even went so far as to tearing down my old loafer bed on my own. Belongings packed up, trash tossed, fond memories of old toys and doodads briefly recollected before being tossed in the garbage. Gotta say, it felt pretty good. My mother and I had figured that my brother would follow suit and get his work done. Or something. Anything? Even one crusty shirt thrown into the wash, a bit of trash tossed into a bag, a single spritz of Febreze? ​ Ooh, how naive we were. ​ Not only had this gelatinous bastard not even started with cleaning his landfill of a room, but he had straight up barricaded the door with that stained, unkempt ragged mess of a mattress he slept on. Why he insisted on just sleeping on a mattress without a sheet or even a bedframe, i haven't a clue. When questioned, he listlessly gave us a "go away, i'm not doing this right now." to which i promptly responded by giving the ol' LEROY JENKINS to his door and storming in myself and letting him know how few fucks i gave, which could have been set in the negatives. Naturally, all he did was call me a prick and told me to fuck off. My mother and i reluctantly gave up for the day, knowing nothing short of a forklift would get him to move out of here. However, next day when he went off to do whatever it was he did, and i'm certain it wasn't looking for a job, we went in, cleaning products ablaze, ready to tackle to years of piled up grime that he had compacted over the years. Needless to say, it was disgusting, in more ways that one. ​ It was pretty standard as neckbeard nests go. Soda cans strewn about, unidentifiable growth on plates of what was once half-eaten food, unwashed clothes from years prior, generally things that would warrant calling in a hazmat crew if left unchecked for much longer. In fact, looking back, i'm fairly certain this bastard is the reason i have such an aversion to ketchup and Catalina dressing. Fucker put that shit on everything, even dressing on white rice and ate it with his hands. Bowls, plates, silverware, and at one point even glass measuring cups would have to be tossed after the red paste had just solidified to the ceramics. What boiled by balls was, like i said before, how little of a fuck Dourbeard cared for, not only the belongings of others, but even his own. His Magic the Gathering cards, which he had given me shit for even touching as a kid, were left in a state of total dispensary. Scattered about, stained, torn, some even whittled away to half their size by lord knows what. Christ, I remember one had some sort of unidentifiable solid mass protruding from the front. I shutter to think of what had transpired.. The myriad of books he had, it was hard to find one with a spine or cover intact, let alone one with all of its pages still remaining. My regretfully blood related sibling was one slimy piece of work, but with enough gumption and elbow grease, we managed to take out enough filth to at least make the room livable for the time being. Of course, once we had managed to fix up my old room and get him settled in, it quickly devolved into ANOTHER revolting neckbeard nest, only this time with the addition of managing to destroy my old Xbox 360. The prick. That was quickly taken care of after we had finally gotten rid of him some time later. ​ Tale #2: The Clash of the Bros! ​ Okay, this one's a bit fuzzy, can't remember the exact day or the precise events, all i know is that my dad was working in New Mexico and i was still attending college. To clarify one thing, my mother, bless her soul, wasn't exactly in the best place at the time. Namely due to health issues, a bit of a problem regarding muscle relaxers, and the bursted hemorrhoid atop the shit smoothie, Dourbeard's reluctance to grow up and actually be a responsible adult. This led to many, what i like to call, "Shove It Up Your Ass" moments. I'll explain that one later. Not sure what the hell lead to this, i just remember my mom absolutely going off on me about something or another, and i left steamed like a ham afterwards. Not thinking too clearly, and deciding to use my rage for good, i went to my brother, who was reluctantly doing chores. ​ One thing i should mention, is that i'm pretty sure DourBeard took that bit from Bill Cosby's stand-up act about guys being idiots to get out of working to heart, because this fucker always did a sloppy job at any task we gave him. Doing the bare minimum just so he can say he had done it, construction projects with my dad were spent with me being a glorified tool belt while he milled about doing fuck all, that sort of thing. I stormed to that kitchen with purpose, ready to confront the lackadaisical lardass, look right in the general direction of his mass, and shouted the phrase that set a fire in his soul and kick his blubber butt into action. ​ "Dourbeard, if you're gonna wash the glasses, you'd better you hot water and bleach! Leaving it in the dishwater's just gonna make it all murky!" ​ ​ And that did it. The battle was on! Normally he would just try and choke me out back when i was a kid, but that strategy wasn't going to cut it anymore! We both slammed and struck at one another, doing our damndest to break the others' footing. Both stalwart, both unmoving! Both determined to put the other in their place once and for all! It was a glorious sight, which could be best summed up by saying it looked like a beef tenderloin and a sack of lard being slapped together. Yeeeaaah, with him being a neckbeard, and i being a dweeb of a theatre kid, needless to say it wasn't a long fight. About a minute in, my mom stormed over, told us to know that shit off, we're both morons, and to head to our rooms and shut up. Now, while this brilliantly epic clash was a tale to be passed down for generations to come, it doesn't quite compare to what i'd consider to be the true turning point. ​ Tale #3; The Acorn Squash Incident. ​ It was the summer of 2015, the start of my summer vacation from community college. We were all stocked up on vegetables thanks to the Market on the Move, or Produce on Wheels, not sure what they call it now, down at the local church. Give them $10 and you get a huge surplus of produce that i'm fairly certain was just the stuff they couldn't sell in stores, but it's still a kind gesture nonetheless. I've helped many a farmer load up their soon-to-be animal feed into the beds of their pick-up trucks. Good times. Anyways, my mother had instructed me to cook her up some squash for supper, and without any further clarification, i go and prep the three acorn squashes we had. Pretty standard, just cut in half, scooped out the seeds, brushed with olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper, cooked cut side down in the oven at 350 until a knife can pass through with little resistance. Sounds pretty simple so far, but ooooh boyo... ​ Now i'll, as the kids say, take the L on this one, because i was slightly unclear when i went to report back to my mother. Instead of telling her "I'm cooking up the acorn squash" i went and told her "I cooked all of the squash." So she had assumed that i had not only made the acorn, but also the butternut and spaghetti squash that we also had. Why she thought i had managed to put all of that in the oven since we only had two sheets we regularly cooked with i'm not sure. Regardless, she was absolutely livid, leading to what I have dubbed the "Shove It Up Your Ass" moment. Namely 'cause, when i asked what she'd like me to do with the clothes i had just washed, she viciously barked at me to, you guessed it, shove 'em up my ass. And this was after she gave me a big ol' "Reason You Suck" speech, some crap about how i'm wasting food and how i'm not applying myself and how i'm turning into a spitting image of my brother, yadda yadda fuck this noise. Now, keep in mind, while she's going off on me like fireworks on the 4th of July, DourBeard is all snug and safe in his new room, doing god know's what. Probably looking up ways to cheat on Xbox 360 games because that bastard can't be fucked to even play the game unless he can just cheat his way through with no challenge. Yeah, fucker can't even put in the endless time he had to get good at shit like Borderlands and Assassin's Creed. Anywhatzit, after Mom had finished givin' me the bidness, she kicked my brothers door in, NYPD Blue style, and demanded he CLEAN UP HIS GOSH DARNED MOTHER HUMPIN' ROOM! ​ Oh, and NOW, all of a sudden, DourBeard rolls out of bed, flumping to the floor like a boulder made of McDonald's trash and wasted potential, clumsily rose up and got right in her face going on about how he's "Tired of all her bullshit." and told her "I'm finally taking a stand for my brother and I!" which explains why he never even bothered to respond when she was flipping out at me, but you do you, bruh. He then went on about he's sick of her "Alcoholism" (she enjoyed her Malibu Coconut Rum but never actually got drunk to the point of causing issues, or even that drunk ot begin with.) her "Abuse" (meaning yelling at us for being lazy idiots, for lying to her, or insisting that her 28 year old son should've had at least one job at this point.) and her "Condescending bullshit!" ​ To clarify that last part, a while after we swapped rooms, she took a huge piece of paper and wrote up a "Contact" of sorts, basically stating that while Dourbeard lived there, he'd look for work, keep his space clean, help out around the house, and most importantly, take a freakin' shower. She and I even signed this little agreement as a show of good faith. Needless to say, despite this agreement staring him in the face as he laid in his shitty bed that he managed to fuck up once again, he never did any of that. Yeah, big shocker there, eh? ​ At that point i was done, so i walked out of the house to get some fresh air. This lasted about a minute before i heard my mother screaming, realized i can't let this fuck-knuckle keep getting away with this, and promptly ran back into the house and what i saw was surely a sight to behold. My mother's been shoved to the ground, thankfully with her hip still in place, and she's got this filthy bastard by the literal balls, and is twisting his defective Chef Boyardee ass meatballs in an attempt to at least do some harm to him. The look of utter confusion on DourBeard's face was pretty priceless, since i'm assuming he realized this will likely be the only time in his life that a woman would ever handle his Vienna Sausage 'n dollar store meatballs in any capacity. This was quite brief as I grabbed a nearby bowl and bashed it over his thick cement head and dragged the bastard away from her. After we all took some time to breath, my brother just told us to fuck ourselves and stumbled back to his room. After making sure my mother was alright and getting her back to bed, i decide "Fuck this, fuck everything about this." took a nighttime stroll down to the nearby Circle K, grabbed myself a Black Cherry Mike's Harder Lemonade (still not sure where that collectible Deadpool can ever ended up) and decided to have myself my first proper drink. ​ Yes, this fuck mothering glob of a leech had finally driven me to drink...sort of. After this i wound up trying Seagram's Escapes and came to the conclusion that alcohol wasn't really for me and didn't really drink much after that, but that's besides the point. After downing my hard lemonade, i had a brief conversation with my mother and we exchanged mutual apologies and had a bit of a laugh after she realized she had misunderstood what I meant with the acorn squash. hahaha, fuck me running... at least at that point we both strongly agreed that it didn't matter if he was ready for life or not, we had to break out the proverbial industrial strength cleaner and get this scum out of our home once and for all. The only question was how we'd go about doing so, but that's a tale for another time... ​ Thanks a metric fuckton for reading this, MoonDude! You, Sango, River, Babs, and the rest of the Celestial Herd are amazing, and i'll be sure to get the finale of this butt nugget's tale finished up as soon as i can. ​ (I actually have it all written and everything, i just wanted to space things out. Posting it all at once just feels like a douche move.)