All Tied Up

The world had an odd red tint to it. Beyond this though, I wasn't even able to stand up in my current predicament. Try as I might, I could only flop around the living room, trying to find something to brace myself against. My brother Tim had taken sibling rivalry to a whole new level. I was currently in a red mesh laundry bag after trying to tag along when he went to Sonic with his best friend, Jack.

While seemingly cruel, he insists to this day that it was a justifiable escalation in our brotherly feud. Tim was nine years my elder and a sophomore in high school. He had a car, a Nintendo, and a computer: all enviable possessions. Although I had no shortage of action figures and Nerf guns, the grass is always greener.

While he spent hours playing video games in his room, I would attempt to convince him to let me watch, swearing that I would be quiet. When that failed, I thought it necessary to bang on his door with the hope he would let me in to shut me up. What appears peevish to most seemed like a perfect course of action to my 7-year-old self. He didn't agree.

On one occasion, he used a door club (a metal bar with a rubber pad on the bottom to prevent the opening of a door, even when unlocked) in an attempt to keep me out. In retaliation, I began to shoulder bash the door, permanently deforming the door handle on the other side. I suppose being stuck in a mesh laundry bag wasn't that bad considering the amount of harassment I directed towards Tim.

I spent another fifteen minutes or so trying to put myself in the position to undo the drawstring, but eventually relented in the face of futility. With nothing else to do, I just sat there in the living room, waiting for someone to come to the rescue.

This wasn't even the first time he had gotten back at me for my annoying behavior. A few weeks before the laundry bag, Tim decided to tie me to the coffee table. Although in that instance, I was able to escape by lifting the table leg up and slipping my binds underneath. Before that, he convinced me that climbing into the front-loading dryer would be entertaining, although he didn't mention who for.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard a key go into the door lock. In my struggle to free myself from the bag, I wound up out of sight of the front door, but I knew it was about the time that my dad typically got home from work. No luck though--my brother was back. Now, I've made him out to be somewhat abusive, a bully even, but honestly he was and still can be rather nice--as evidenced by the root beer float with my name on it. He conditioned my release on me promising not to be annoying for at least a few hours and after a moment of indecision, I agreed to the truce.

Our relationship changed as soon as we weren't living under the same roof. Looking back, I'm glad that  he put me in my place. I realized the necessity for earning respect and acting mature. I certainly didn't become a cool little brother overnight afterwards, but I think he would agree that I am more palatable now than ever. Now we go weeks or months before he tries to lock me in a chest.