It all started with the TV.

That day I decided to stand up to Bruce,

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Did I decide to stand up to him… ? Probably not. Considering the way it happened and all that had gone on up to that point, the state of my nearly fifteen-year-old mind was not anywhere near aware enough to have any sense of some cause to fight for.

And the TV… was the TV really a factor? A catalyst perhaps but certainly not a cause.

I didn’t really care about TV anyway. I liked the shows and later I would really get into some of the new ones that came on in the evenings. But that day I stood up to Bruce, I was just trying to hold my own in yet another power struggle. A power struggle in which I felt I had no power. I was still the fat kid. Fat and stupid.

A stupid pig.

The TV (and my fights with Stacy over what to watch) was just something to distract me from the main power struggle and I was happy to have it. That day I stood up to Bruce, Stacy and I were fighting over which of the two inane reruns available, that we would try and see before Dad got home. I always wanted to watch Hogan’s Heroes and Stacy wanted to watch Love American Style. They came on at the same time, shortly after we got home from school. Usually we could also see the last several minutes of one of the shows that came on before, so that often gave me a bargaining chip.

Stacy was eleven and I was almost fifteen (I can’t remember now exactly when this was in relation to my birthday, but I think it was before) so I had the upper hand when it came to negotiating. As soon as the TV was on, Stacy would find something she liked and I would pretend to not want to watch it. Then I’d give in and let her watch it if she agreed to let me watch Hogan’s Heroes when it was over. Most of the time it would work and Stacy would go for the deal without realizing (until it was “too late”) that she had just given up her chance to see Love American Style. 

Bruce was always in the corner of the room, pretending to be reading a book. Oh I’m sure he was reading it. I’m quite sure that mister extremely high IQ, Mensa member, genius asshole was quite capable of multitasking that, with his psychological manipulations of such simpletons as me and my sister. But that day, he was obviously quite tuned-in to what Stacy and I were fighting about, so I doubt he was reading anything he might need to really pay attention to.

That day Bruce decided to mess with my little deal with Stacy.

My deal to make sure we didn’t watch Love American Style. I’m pretty sure now that it wasn’t so much that I really wanted to watch Hogan’s Heroes. And it wasn’t that big of a deal to win the fight over what to watch with Stacy. I think it was mostly that I really hated that other show. Love American Style was such a stupid show. I must have begun to care enough about art, that it was painful to have to sit through it.

But that day, Bruce decided to make it harder for me to avoid Love American Style. It was quite easy for him to do it too. All he had to do was remind Stacy of when it came on, and my bargaining chip was useless.

Asshole!

Just read your stupid book!

Once Stacy realized that her favorite show was coming on after Gilligan’s Island (the show we usually settled on to watch before our “favorite” shows) she started doing what SHE did best. That thing I would never beat her at. And it would continue and continue and continue and this too will have to be…

To be continued…