My brother Burt was speeding
through the house
on his brand‑new tricycle,
so I wrote him a ticket for
reckless driving
and another for not wearing his
seatbelt.
He
cried racial profiling
and sexual harassment
and then punched me square in the
nose.
I wrote him up for assault and
battery,
but he tore the ticket in my face
and
sped back into the living room.
An
hour later, I walked into the kitchen
and found him playing with my
Monopoly game.
I ordered him to stop,
put both hands behind his head,
and back slowly away from the box.
Burt
just smiled and said it was his—
he’d claimed eminent domain over
my property.
He didn’t stay to argue semantics
or defamation of character.
All I know is he smelled,
and he looked mighty stupid in the
eyes of the law.
He
raised his fists
and warned me about his right to
bear arms—
and these were the two he planned
to use
if I didn’t stop harassing him.
My
sister Lonnie was in the other room
playing with her new Barbie doll,
not paying attention to either of
us.
Burt marched in,
grabbed Barbie by the torso,
snapped her clean in half,
and said she no longer had a leg
to stand on.
He chuckled and handed the wounded
doll back to Lonnie.
Since
Roe versus Wade, he said,
gave him the right to choose
the pursuit of happiness for
everyone in this house,
he could do whatever he pleased.
And if he wanted to break some
bones
or take what wasn’t his, then so
be it.
The law protected him
from unlawful search and seizure,
and it granted him the right to
bear false witness
against his neighbor.
Yes
sir, Roe versus Wade made that clear—
and for Burt, it couldn’t be
clearer.
He was headed to law school
just as soon as he finished third
grade.
I
told him he was dead wrong,
that it was Brown versus the Board
of Education
that endowed us with unalienable
rights
of life, liberty, and the pursuit
of happiness.
And if he wanted to argue the
facts,
I’d gladly ask Mommy to be judge
and jury.
Burt
just smiled,
gave me the finger, and said,
“You win, dude.”
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