My adventures with my brother Kaput

Page 5

I came from a large family where I learned from a young age to stand up for myself. When bannock was cooked and served it was a fight to the stretch to get one small piece. If you didn't get it you went hungry for the rest of the day. As a result of us acting like a pack of wolves, my brother got his nickname, Kaput. As the youngest and the weakest, he never got any bannock.

Kaput and I were always together and our relationship lasted even as we got older. He was lucky enough to have a wife, but the marriage lasted only five days. When he knew he couldn't support her he told her she was trying to use him for his money, which he didn't have.

"I don't want your measly money," she responded.

She was smart. I think he only had 45 bucks to his name!

One day, we had summer games in our community. Kaput and I were right into it. We tried everything from running to nailing nails, but we got really excited when the moose calling contest was announced.

Kaput looked at me and winked.

"This is where your younger brother's natural hunting skills come in," he said with a grin. "Watch and learn the tricks of a mighty moose hunter, bro!"

Sure enough his name was called to be the first caller. The treble on the P.A. system was turned way up so that my brother's bass notes sounded like a soprano's in a girls choir. The screeching sound could be heard five miles away, and what a relief when the system was adjusted!

He was told by the judges to try again, but this time he was instructed to call like a cow. Kaput looked a little worried and then made a moo moo sound. The judge yelled back, "I mean a cow moose, stupid!" Kaput didn't even try. That was it for his moose calling career!

Both of us loved to party. But Kaput had this way of partying that caused a lot of trouble. He would do anything to cause a fight. Sometimes he would lie in the middle of the floor and wait for someone to bump into him and then, look out. . . the fight was on!

We both looked for a chance to steal, which always got us into more trouble than it was worth. One day my brother walked out of a grocery store with a 30-pound turkey. He panicked and dropped it on the sidewalk. He made a big scene and pretended someone threw it at us.

"Hey! Who's the wise guy who threw the bird at us!" he yelled for everyone to hear. The police officer on the corner wasn't so impressed. Next thing we were doing 30 days in the local jail.

After hearing so many horror stories about jail, we both were scared. I noticed Kaput was growing a beard so he would look older and not get picked on so much. But soon we learned the basic rules. Lay low and stay cool... and don't drop the soap!

We felt quite lucky to be bunking in the same cell. Kaput took the top bunk, but pretty soon I gave him the bottom because he was jumping off his bed every half-hour to take a pee. I figured he was nervous but he made some excuse about having a "small tank."

Our stay was long. We both missed our George Jones tunes and shows like North of 60 on the tube. But we ate better in jail. Not having to fight the crows off the garbage pen was a treat.

Finally, my brother and I were out and we were both very happy. Kaput was jumping up and down, sorta shadow dancing, so excited to be going home.|

Young kids knew we were in jail. They came running to us.

"Hey! That's cool," they would say.

My brother Kaput would reply, "NOT SO. It's 60 degrees serious!"

We had a tough time finishing our time and there's nothing cool about it!