Luke: Part I

My brother is four years older than I am, but anyone will tell you that our ages are switched. I'm the older, and he's the younger (even though he's 23 now); this is the way it's always been. The reason for this mix-up is because of his imagination. He is still a kid at heart. At times, I even wish I had his imagination (if he ever wanted to, he'd be a brilliant actor).

As young homeschooled children who finished their homework before mom would wake up, we would play the most fascinating fantasies either in the backyard or in the house. Sometimes it was Star Wars, sometimes it was the Lord of the Rings, sometimes it was something completely original. It didn't quite matter. We would see a part of a movie and make it better during playtime. For me, Luke was the narrator and creator of all these stories in which I would be the main character. He's a graphic design artist who loves writing, and I'm an actor who loves writing as well, but ten years ago, he would be creating a fantastic world with all sorts of obstacles for me to tackle. It seems nothing has changed.

However, when I was in the process of growing up, I didn't always want to play. Luke would have none of this. Every time was play time. Before I knew what was happening, my homework had been thrown aside, and I was being chased by a modern Viking horde with hockey sticks (I'll never understand, but they were incredibly terrifying). Somehow he could always get me in a good mood.

One time in particular, Luke and I were home alone, and the power went out. I suppose I was about 14 and Luke 18, but we called our dad anyway to let him know what was going on. "Whatever you do, don't open the fridge more than once," he said. Made sense--all the cold air would get out, and everything inside would be ruined. We finished our school about an hour later, and as I passed by the kitchen, Luke nonchalantly opened the fridge and said, "I'm gonna eat." He immediately and simultaneously gasped and shrieked, and I ran to see what was wrong. When I remembered what Dad had said about the fridge, Luke was attempting to pull random objects out of the fridge.

"We have to eat it all!" he shrieked again.

I quickly slammed the fridge shut, and Luke moaned aloud, obviously dissatisfied with my quick thinking. His thinking was to grab everything out of the fridge and eat all of it before it went rotten, but he had only pulled out mustard.

"Great," he said sardonically, "Now we can only eat mustard for lunch."
"We can open the fridge again, we just have to be quick," I said, "And we have to know what we want."
"I don't know what I want."
"Well, do you want a sandwich or--"
"No, Matthew! I won't be able to know what I want unless I can look at it. I need to open the fridge and look at everything."
"What? No. That'll take too long. Look, if you want a sandwich, then I know we need meat, cheese--here. Let's make a list of all the things we need so that, when we open the fridge, we can quickly get it."
"A list? Are you kidding? No, I just need to open the fridge--"
"Luke, just tell me what you want!"
"I don't know what I want!"
"Well, if we write down the possibilities, then you can decide--"
"I'll see the possibilities when I open the fridge. Just let me browse!"
"That'll take too long!"
"This is taking too long!"
"We need to keep everything fresh!"
"We're a little past that now, Matthew!"
"Holding the fridge open won't help!"
"I don't want to eat mustard!"
"You don't have to eat mustard! Unless you want a sandwich, then it's one of the items on the list!"
"What list?!"
"The list for the fridge!"
"I'm not making a list!"
"I'm making the list! And we're putting mustard on it!"
"I don't want to eat mustard!"
"You won't have to eat mustard!"
"But it's on the list!"
"We haven't made the list yet!"
"Because we haven't opened the fridge to see what's inside!"
"We're not opening the fridge!"
"I don't want to eat mustard!"
"You're not going to eat mustard!"
"Then let me open the fridge!"

By now, I was protecting the closed doors of the refrigerator with my entire body as our nonsense argument continued. Eventually, Luke stood still for a couple seconds, the wheels ever so obviously turning in his head as he finally and ominously said,
"All right. Let's make a list."

I immediately began to spout information about the list as I followed Luke to the old toy closet in the game-room. He ducked his head inside, and I heard him begin to riffle through old costumes and weapons on the other side.

"What are you doing? Are we going to dress up and pretend to do a contract between nations or something? Why are we getting stuff for the list--"

Luke turned around with a rope in his hands, and the next thing I knew, I was bound and gagged in a dark room. About this time, I wonder what would have happened if Mom was home. I stayed in this room for about ten minutes until I eventually broke free. Luke had already eaten, and I was able to make my list. However, with the times of me opening the fridge to get what I needed then opening it again to put it back (2) and the times of Luke's browsing (which I later discovered were 5), the fridge was not opened once like my father had asked but seven times.

We never told him.