by Liza Ziadeh
Jim lowered the rear view mirror and looked at his baby brother, Bob, laying in the backseat of the car, grunting and groaning. “I told you that you shouldn’t have eaten that hamburger. It smelled like crap.” He grinned.
“Shut up!” Bob roared painfully. “Keep your eyes on the road, and get me home.”
Jim shook his head. “See those black clouds and moon in the sky. Those clouds are the foul hamburger in your stomach, and the moon is what your anus is going to look like once the runs start.”
Suddenly, there was a bad smell in the car.
Jim smiled, and patiently rolled down the window.