The Indian man thinks I'm rude

11:34 am
My brother tells me that he is banning me from his macbook because I downloaded shit onto his desktop. Yeah, its loads of creepy porn.
(Actually, I downloaded skype and enough phd theses to make my brains bleed)
11:37 am
I unhappily sit myself in front of the desktop computer. This computer is circa the turn of the century.
11:42 am
I am still waiting for the computer to open google.com, and then it informs me that the web address is unknown. It's fucking google.
11:43 am
I scream to my dad, "Fix the computer! It's taking forever to load!"
He replies, "You should wash some windows."
11:45 am
I scream to my brother, "Alex, can you make this run faster?"
He replies, "Not my fucking problem."
11:46 am
I call my mother at work (she didn't get an entire week off for Thanksgiving like the rest of us)
"Mom," I say, "the computer is running slow and no one will fix it."
She replies, "Why don't you wash some windows instead?"
"But mom, how am I going to work on college applications?" (actually I need to find a pirated version of this week's Dexter)
My mom's voice gets panicked. "You can't do you college applications? I'm on it honey. It'll be fixed."
11:47 am
The house phone rings. It's a man with an Indian accent. He tells me, "I received a call that you need assistance with your computer. I am here from Charter customer service to help you."
His voice is the gatekeeper of hell for many reasons.
I scream for my dad. "Charter is on the phone. It's for you."
He yells over his shoulder, "Uhhhh.. I'm going golfing." He is in his car and pulling out of the driveway in less than thirty seconds. Ass.
I scream for my brother. "Charter is on the phone. It's for you." No answer. I walk to the other end of the house.
He replies, "Not my fucking problem." He eats another chip. "Anyway the internet is not the problem. It's the computer. Just hang up."
I stutter, "But-but-mom-said---"
He grabs the phone and turns it off.
11:50 am
Phone call from mother: "Did you just fucking hang up on him! I'm only trying to help!"
The phone rings. It's Charter. I ignore it, frightfully.
Phone call from mother: "What the hell?! You hung up on him a second time?! He just called me again and told me I have rude children. How embarassing!"
I reply simply, "Alex did it. I did nothing."


I am seventeen and my brother is twenty, but I still turn toddler tricks when under the line of fire.