If you had to put a label on Greg, he would have been my semi semi-step brother. Uncle Bill was his father, and my mother and I were living with Uncle Bill. Greg lived in another city but once a year or so he would unexpectedly come by and then live on the couch for a week or two. The front door was always unlocked which allowed him to burst in and scare the shit out of me while I was watching cartoons. When I turned to see his face, mine would have disappointment and my mind would be cursing swear words.
One time when I was about 11 years old he came out of the bathroom after taking a shower and came towards me with his light blue underwear in his hand saying, “look, poo poo stains.” He would then take said underwear with poo poo stains in sight and threaten to cover my face with it. I screamed. Thankfully he didn’t go through with it. Him being 9 years older than me would have rendered me helpless.
The household consensus was that Greg was a “bum.” Living on the couch may have been free but Greg had to take the verbal abuse from Uncle Bill about how he needed to get a job or go to school, that he needed to get it through his “thick head” how he was headed nowhere in life with his current attitude. Sometimes the tirades would go on for 2 hours.
I had mixed emotions towards Greg. He was annoying but sometimes he would be nice to me. When he came home drunk he would come to my room for his own entertainment. He’d turn the light on and off and with every flick of the switch on he would make a different funny face. He would usually give me a couple dollars too. Back then I couldn’t understand why he was so much nicer in those situations. Now I know it was because of the alcohol. To be honest, I don’t even know how he even had a couple of dollars.
Greg would knock on my bedroom window in the early AM hours to get me to open the door for him. One night when I wasn’t feeling so hot about Greg I went into Uncle Bill’s room instead and told him Greg was knocking on my window. Greg got a yelling. The days following that incident, all through the days Greg would call me a “fucking rat” with his imitation of a rat face and then make a rat noise like they do in the cartoons.
Greg wasn’t a bad guy. He showed that he wasn’t the time he pinned me down and yoyoed his phlegm in my face and “accidentally” dropped it on my eye. He ran to the bathroom apologizing, grabbed some toilet paper and wiped it off. Maybe he was scared I was going to tell his dad. It would have been pretty hard for him to explain himself.
Last we saw each other was 1992. I couldn’t even guess what he ended up doing. Probably a bunch of different things. Hope he’s doing okay.