Shutdown

"Mom always liked you best," panted my brother Poo, as he tackled me.

"That's not true," I sputtered, spitting sand and gravel.

"Is too, is too!" screamed Poo truculently.

"I hardly think this is the time for sibling jealousies," I replied, scrambling to my feet. Poo low-bridged me from behind, sending me sprawling, face down.

"It's because you always give her everything she wants," Poo whined, "and let her do anything she wants."

"She's an adult," I pointed out. "Not to mention, our mother." I attempted to rise, but Poo jumped on top of me, pinning me to the earth.

"She's an old lady now," he said. "Old people need discipline."

"Um, maybe," I said by way of appeasement, "but now is not the time ..." I struggled, but he held me firmly.

"Look," I said desperately, "I appreciate your concern for me ... trying to keep me safe and all ... but someone has to get her out of there. The house is ablaze!"

"Concern?" he retorted with genuine puzzlement. "Nah, I don't give a shit about you. I hope you die. But if you go in there and rescue Mom, you'll get all the credit!"

"All right," I replied reasonably, "then you go in and save her. Then you will get all the credit."

"Are you crazy?" cried Poo. "The place is on fire!"