My self-image -- that mental snapshot that illustrates my moods with costumes and scenery -- is always changing. At any given moment I might think myself a sultry songstress; a talentless clod; a lively comedienne; a wet blanket; a temptress; a wallflower; a scholar; a dunce...
Tonight I am a spittin' mad redneck with a shotgun in my fist.
My sister has just acquired her first boyfriend. He is, as they say, "warm for her form." I am out for blood.
I'm considering three avenues of pursuit:
A. The High Road: I could make nice, be all cool and friendly-like and gently persuade the kids to keep their pants on. But coming from The World's Worst Liar (that's me), a promise that "sex isn't all that fun" might only fuel the fire in their adolescent loins. Okay, scratch Plan A.
B. The Low Road: My ex-boyfriend, a homicide prosecutor, would use crime scene photos of traffic fatalities to scare sense into high school students who were learning to drive. Maybe one of my doctor friends could help me employ scare tactics of my own, loan me a few glossy 8x10s from her STD file. Nothing fancy, just the big ones: herpes, gonorrhea, genital warts.
C. Rock Bottom: A few murmured threats... A handshake just a bit too firm... A well-timed raise of the Eyebrow of Terror... I'm just saying, it works for the Gottis.
People sometimes mistake me for the fightin' kind -- my superiors at work send their support staff to ask me for help because they're afraid to come near my office -- but really I'm a pussycat. My temper rarely flares and when it does I stay away from low blows. HOWEVER, with my sister's virtue on the line I will, if necessary, dispatch my inner Mean Girl. A few years ago a classmate spread a nasty rumor about her and sent an e-mail calling her a "bitch and a dirty hore (sic)." We were this close to a "Three O'Clock High" situation until my brother pointed out that the kid weighed 68 pounds, and anyway I'd be at work when school let out for the day. (I jest; I'd never beat a child that didn't belong to me ;)
I'd try to get my brothers involved in this but it wouldn't do much good; They're small, gentle Jewish boys who play chess and listen to Brahms. I'm not saying they'd run away from a fight. I'm saying they'd skate away, on their rollerblades, and leave me to die alone.
So I guess I'm on my own here. If anyone has suggestions that do not involve (a) bodily harm, destruction of property or anything else that could land me in jail, or (b) "doing the right thing" and leaving my sister to make her own decisions because she's old enough to think for herself and I already instilled in her a wealth of knowledge about self-respect and protection and what to do if a boy gets pushy, then do feel free to post them here. Thank you for your support.