My brother, the sensitive action figure.
What bonds my brother and I is that we don't have a serious bone in our body. Maybe the cochlea. Oh sure, we can be serious in some situations. Present us with the options of cake or death and we would probably chose- no, no. We'd choose death, but the funny kind of death. Like being part of a lemming soul-train, boogeying off a cliff and not living to tell the tale. Our only legacy a pile of furballs and flower-print bellbottoms. Sad, really.
Army enrollment entrance exams, for which my brother flew to Sweden to take last week, include tests of IQ, strength, and a psychologival evaluation. The strength tests worked out fine, he's pretty average in that department. The IQ was fabulous ( but would you expect less from any brother of mine) - and the psych tests, well...well then came the psych test.
"Has anything traumatic happened to you in your life?"
"Well, my dog died. Franz. He was a good dog he was..."(and with some afterthought, and tunelessly, and here we go) : "And Franzo was his naaaaame-o."
And that knocked about three points off his 1-9 point range psych exam. The psychologist leans a bit closer, straightening her glasses.
"Uhm, well. Would you then say that you are a little bit more sensitive than other people?"
My brother leaned a bit closer as well. And I suppose you can guess what happened next. He couldn't resist temptation, what - with it only two meters away from him, listening with a breathless attentiveness.
"Well...maybe just a tad." he mumurs with a slight tremor that would have made me proud.
Regardless, he walked off assigned the role of "group leader" provided that The Island releases its hold on him someday and lands him on this the colder continent.
Army enrollment entrance exams, for which my brother flew to Sweden to take last week, include tests of IQ, strength, and a psychologival evaluation. The strength tests worked out fine, he's pretty average in that department. The IQ was fabulous ( but would you expect less from any brother of mine) - and the psych tests, well...well then came the psych test.
"Has anything traumatic happened to you in your life?"
"Well, my dog died. Franz. He was a good dog he was..."(and with some afterthought, and tunelessly, and here we go) : "And Franzo was his naaaaame-o."
And that knocked about three points off his 1-9 point range psych exam. The psychologist leans a bit closer, straightening her glasses.
"Uhm, well. Would you then say that you are a little bit more sensitive than other people?"
My brother leaned a bit closer as well. And I suppose you can guess what happened next. He couldn't resist temptation, what - with it only two meters away from him, listening with a breathless attentiveness.
"Well...maybe just a tad." he mumurs with a slight tremor that would have made me proud.
Regardless, he walked off assigned the role of "group leader" provided that The Island releases its hold on him someday and lands him on this the colder continent.
