One time my dad installed a garage door on his house, and it was a great achievement for him. Even though he was a designer and had worked on everything from warheads to aircraft carriers, and really was quite brilliant, he was not very mechanically inclined. So putting up this garage door was a serious accomplishment. To celebrate this accomplishment, he went to his bar to play pool and drink and hang around with his friends.

My brother was staying there at my parents’ house, for a few days, because he had gotten into a huge argument with his wife. After my dad left that evening, my brother pulled his jeep up into the driveway to tinker around with it. With his jeep idling in front of the brand new garage door, my brother was leaning in and out of the driver seat, adjusting this and that, tooling around. He leaned much too far out of the seat one time, and he lost his balance. He started to slide out of the jeep, and his leg kicked forward reflexively as he tried to regain his balance. He accidentally kicked the jeep into gear, and the vehicle lunged forward, and plunged right through the brand new garage door. He was thrown from his seat and sandwiched between the garage doorway and the vehicle. It didn’t smash him or even break any bones or anything, but it bounced him around badly, and he was hurting. He could walk and all. He was not seriously injured, but he was very sore.

With his newly acquired aches and pains in his back, sides, arms and legs, and with the horrible devastation before his eyes to the brand-ass new garage door, my brother smoked a bunch of dope, and then went inside and picked out a bedroom and passed the hell out. Some time passed, and my brother entered very deep sleep.

Closing time came at my dad’s bar, and my dad left. He had drunk a bit that night, and he drove home. The bar was only two or three minutes away. My dad was in a pretty euphoric, boozed up state, but he could make that drive in any condition, really. So he drove home. He arrived in his driveway and saw the demolished garage door and my brother’s jeep parked right in front of it.

He was a bit upset.

He stormed into the house and roused my brother from a dead sleep. I’m not sure exactly what happened next: who grabbed whom first, who hit whom first. I know for sure that my brother punched my dad in the face and broke his glasses - snapped them in half. My dad had a black eye.

My brother left the house and went who knows where. My dad was so pissed off, he called the cops on my brother. My brother usually had a gun on him and some quantity of ‘Green Devastator’ as well. If the cops had busted him with all that, it would have been really bad.

When I woke up and found out what happened (I slept through all that shit – I was staying there too), I went to a pay phone and beeped my brother. He called back, and I told him that my dad had called the cops on him and to be careful what he carried around and all that.

Things eventually cooled down a bit. My dad didn’t press charges, but he didn’t want to see my brother for a while either. I can’t remember exactly how that worked out with the police and shit. Do the cops have to bust you - no matter what - once the call has been made? Then the complainant decides - at that point - not to press charges? I can’t remember how that shit worked out, but my brother didn’t go to jail.

It messed up the holidays for a while though. My brother and dad would not attend the same family gatherings for a year and a half there. They would not be caught in the same location at the same time. We had to work it so that one of them would come in the morning, like Christmas morning, and the other dummy would come in the evening. And it was a pain in the ass for everybody. Finally they buried the fuckin hatchet, and all was well again.

The dumb asses.

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