Fists of Rage

Essay by eyeluveuroCollege, UndergraduateA+, April 2004

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Fists of Rage

Two months ago on a Friday my friends and I decided to go camping in Wisconsin for the weekend. This trip meant so much to me for the summer was coming to an end and my friends were going away for college. We decided on taking one car leaving mine as a P.O.W in front of my brother's fortress.

My brother is the root of all evil and with eighteen years of development his devilish ways are far more powerful then the minds of my elders. For countless years his reign of terror haunted those he slithers across. From robbing his girlfriends house to pawning my mothers engagement ring or breaking car windows because you can see through them. "There's no reason they'd suspect ive done it" once poured out of his mouth like scorching lava. Holding his acts as if they gave him a sense of pride.

It's a half hour before our departure now, the thought that my car must be left somewhere is picking at my brain. The phone can't seem to find my grandma and other hideouts lurk even greater dangers. My car will have to hold out under the protection of my supporters. Were still in front of my house now and my friends are still trying to persuade me to leave my car here. But I can't; especially since he broke my moon-roof weeks ago and stole my Nintendo days before. I know my parents have no control and wouldn't believe he's capable of his unspeakable nature. "Oh god no this is bad". As I turned around to look at my house I saw him. He was right there on the porch sitting in his throne, he must have heard every word "GRRRR" I'm frustrated now this debate shouldn't...