My Scary Brother, Michael
First, I must describe my brother Michael in order to give a visual. Michael is about six-one; he has a bald head (by choice), very broad-stocky build and is covered in tattoos from head to toe.
He was with us one day when we stopped at a mall. My husband and son were unloading my scooter as the mall security passed by in a golf cart (at the time, I didn’t walk well and used a motorized scooter to get around in). There was a van parked at the curb by the entrance to the mall and it blocked the ramp I would need to use to go inside.
The security stopped by the van and asked them to move. He did move, but it was only like half a foot. His front tires did not even do a full rotation. The security cart rolled back around and asked him again. The van moved up a little further, about the same distance.
I turned to my brother and said, “Can you explain to him that I need to use the ramp? Maybe he didn’t understand or something?”
My tattooed brother walked up to the van, tapped on the window and said, “Can you please pull up? My sister needs to use…”
The driver took one look at my brother and sped off.
“What did you say to him?” I asked thinking I had missed something.
“Nothing,” Michael insisted. “He didn’t even let me finish what I was saying.”
My husband came up behind me and explained, “I think Mike scared him off. I would have run, too, if he had asked me to move a third time.”
It was hilarious. I still laugh when I think about how Michael scared the bejesus out of that driver.
The picture portrayed is of Tattooboy Holden and not of my brother.