Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

Last night I did what all sisters do at some point: I looked through my brother’s wallet to make sure he had pictures of me.

Luckily he did, but I don’t hold the prominent place in his wallet. The only person allowed to rank above me in the wallet is my mother.

The picture wasn’t my mother.

It was Jesus.

JESUS! IN MY BROTHER’S WALLET!

I’ve always said Mormon Jesus is way hotter than any other Jesus. He’s tan, fit and incredibly healthy looking. It’s like he’s been playing tennis doubles, not dying on a cross. Jesus is dreamy, but he’s still not allowed to be more beloved than I am.

NO WAY.

He already has all the Catholics… does he really need my baby brother, too? Jesus isn’t perfect; he’s selfish.

He thinks just because he died for my brother’s sins means he gets top billing. It’s not like I wouldn’t die for my brother. Sure, there’d have to be a parade and a giant prize at the end, but I’d still do it. This selfless act deserves some recognition, right? RIGHT. I’m waiting until Chady-bear is asleep tonight and I’m stealing Jesus. That dude is going down. I’ll show him.

I was twelve when my baby brother, Chad, was born. I was a bratty pre-teen and horrified that my parents were even having sex let alone bringing home the result and expecting me to love him.

I already had three younger brothers. The last thing I needed was another one. I may have been more forgiving of their transgressions if they had brought home a baby girl.

But noooooooo, they brought home yet another stinky, pain in the ass brother.

I tried to remedy the situation by dressing him up like a girl as much as possible. I called him Chadina:

My parents found out what I was doing and that was the end of that. He still made a pretty cute boy though:

When I graduated from high school and moved away from home we were both brokenhearted. I was once again brokenhearted when he decided to serve a Mormon mission in Japan for two years.

It was a long two years without him, but he’s served his time and is headed home!

My parents flew to Japan last week to pick him up. Today they will bring home my baby brother, but today they will also bring home a man.

My baby brother, Chady-bear, is currently serving an LDS mission in Japan. When he decided to go on a mission my first thought was that he would try and force Mormonism onto me. My second thought was who the hell would wash and vacuum my car once he left?

My car is filthy, and luckily so is my soul. I haven’t received any preachy letters with scripture quotes and guilt trips. Instead he tells me stories about his experiences in Japan, which I find far more interesting than gospel stories.

He’s due home this summer. And just when I started getting excited to have my baby brother back he had to go and do the unthinkable. His last letter had a religious themed message to it, well not so much the letter as the enclosed picture.

In this case, a pictures really isn’t worth a thousand words–just one word, and a bossy one at that:

When he gets home I’m going to have to sit him down to discuss his poor choice of facial hair, just as soon as my car is clean.

Dear Chady-bear,

You haven’t written me a letter in ages. You’re fired!. And so is your church. What’s the story? No letter certainly feels like no love. Did your mission president ban me?

So things here are absolutely insane. I’ve decided missions are bad luck for our family. When Ben went Jeff lost his mind, now that you are gone Jeff lost his mind again. I’m blaming the mission, not Jeff. It really should be the other way around, but Matt is going through some really hard stuff right now, too. This supports my theory that missions are bad luck. In fact, I think you should come home immediately. This is the only way to prevent anything else horrible from happening to our family. I’m not going to write about Matt’s stuff because I’m sure Mom has, and it makes me cry every time I think about it. Sometimes life is so unfair you wonder why you bother. This is one of those times.

On a happier note, it’s getting warmer here. Summer is just around the corner. I wish you were around so we could go on a camping trip. Ben is always too busy, and by busy I mean lazy. Another bit of good news: Carmen is moving home.

Uncle Bry is having a family dinner tonight, I’m excited because I get to see Jenny’s kids and because Bry will feed me. Ben and I used to go over there for Sunday dinner a couple times a month but not so much lately. I think we’ve been fired.

I’m not writing you anything about me (too bad for you, because I have lots to say) until you get your lazy ass in gear and send your sister a letter. Shame on you, Chady! Now you’ll never get to hear about my snowboarding experience. Yup, I finally went. You’re dying to know if I liked it or hated it, aren’t you? Too bad.

Love,
Sissy

PS. I was kidding about you coming home. Stay put. I need as much Hello Kitty paraphernalia as I can get.

They send my brothers on missions. Chady-bear turns 20 tomorrow and I can’t see him because he’s in a foreign country serving God or something. And to make matters worse it’s against the rules to phone him.

Dear Chadybear,

Thanks for your guilt-ridden letter. Is Mom there with you? I thought writing a lot of letters was a good thing. Little did I know you actually want them in a timely manner. For the record I’m not trying to save stamp money, I’m just lazy about going to the post office. I’ll be better. Maybe.

The new job is great. One of the guys (read: kid) I work with reminds me of you. Because of that I give him as much shit as often as possible. I’m pretty sure he hates it just like you always did, which only encourages me. He’ll get used to it eventually.

I read the part of your letter to Ben where you said you were sad you didn’t spend more time with us because and that we shouldn’t grow up before you get home. Ummm, we agreed and you have nothing to worry about. I’m glad you’re finally accepting our weird humor. Was it the Jesus Band-Aids that paved the way?

I’m sorry you got stuck on the same mission with that Plumb kid from home. He seems like an uptight little prick so it makes sense the holy toast kit we sent you offended him. Tell him to get over it. I know he sucks but try and get along with him. Oh my god, that was way too tender sister for me. How about this advice: just don’t punch him.

So your prophet died. It’s only been a day and I’m already tired of hearing people say it’s sad. It’s really, really not. He was 97. It’s taken over the news completely, as you might imagine. Totally annoying!

Oh and Chady… when you ask for contraband items you need to specify, otherwise you’re going to get porn and fireworks.

Love,
Sissy