He’s a heartless, selfish B*STARD, who would rather his sister DIE AN AGONISING DEATH than undergo a tiny, eensy, drop of self-sacrifice. (Sorry Nath. Love you really)
I suppose I ought to start at the beginning.
After a lovely lunch at a local Chinese restaurant, chatting and joking and competitively slurping our noodles as noisily as we could, my brother and I were walking back home.
“Hey, thanks for paying for the Chinese! I owe you!” Nath said. I laughed. “That’s alright. It’s actually an investment. I pay for most of our lunches out, so that if I ever get ill, you’ll be so indebted, you’ll be forced to be my organ donor”.
“So if I ever need a lung, you’ll have to give me your spare, won’t you, Nath?” I said, elbowing him in the side.
What he said next shocked me to my core.
“Well… it’s hard to say, isn’t it? How you’ll feel in that situation. You never really know how you’d act, do you?”
Horrified, I stared at my brother.
“So you’re telling me, Nathan, that if I were DYING of LUNG CANCER, you’d have to HAVE A REAL THINK before you gave me your PERFECTLY HEALTHY LUNG?? I’d give you mine without a moment’s thought, YOU UTTER TW*T” I barked, rather too loudly, as a stranger overtook us.
“YOU ABSOLUTE F*CKER!! I’M YOUR ONLY SISTER, YOU ARSE. HOW COULD YOU EVEN SAY…” I continued, in full swing, all the way home, as he ‘umm’ed and ‘ahh’ed, trying to duck my furious insults.
He hasn’t relented, and maintains that he can’t make any guarantees about what he’d do. As you can see, confrontation obviously hasn’t worked. So I’m forced to resort to public humiliation.
One way or another, I’m getting that goddamn lung.
Disclaimer: I love my brother. If he doesn’t want to give me his lungs, that’s just fine, but I'm much less likely to buy him lunch.