If Only It Wasn't True

I went on a date with my little brother. We had dinner at Arby's, then watched Spider-Man 3 at our local mall. This story isn't about the movie - which was good, by the way, or how my eleven-year-old brother serves both as a surrogate best friend and girlfriend, instead it serves a parable of sorts. Pay attention least you fail to learn the lesson well.

The movie was viewed in one of the larger theaters, and since it was a 4:00 pm matinee, there was plenty of seating room. We were the second group in the theater and staked out the center upper row for ourselves. Every subsequent group lay claim to their own row. I was slightly perturbed when a pregnant woman sat directly in front of me, but she was short enough not to impede my view and I have always had a thing for expectant mothers. Two minutes into the previews a family of five decided to sit directly beside me and the little brother. The family unit consisted of mom, grandmother and three children all under the age of five.

The middle child, who appeared to be two or three years old, was suckling on an Icee, soon thereafter, as is want to happen with sugary sweets and children, he ran out of frozen syrup and decided to instead suck on his straw in the most egregious and offensive manner possible. His mother proceed to ignore this behavior for the next two and half hours. To be fair, the child only sucked on empty air intermittently, perhaps every five minutes or so; also, I am fairly certain the mother was glad he suckled on a straw rather than her heaving teat - then again, that is just my layman's opinion.

While I listening to the occasional chorus of churtle, churt and chut, my little brother was intently engaged in watching the movie. That is until Spider-Man acquired his black suit. My little brother started to incessantly giggle, I leaned over and whispered, "what is so funny?" his response was startling. He said, in a much too loud of voice, that this was the n****r Spider-Man. I hoped I misunderstood and he meant to say bigger or Tigger, however the former didn't make sense and my brother never was much of a Winnie The Pooh fan. He did help further clarify his meaning as he proceeded to repeat the phrase n****r Spider-Man every time Spider-Man appeared on the screen - you would be surprised how many times the titular character appears in his own movie, I lost count after 53.

Now I want you to understand that I don't support such bigoted language, especially from a child, however, there is little I could do to dissuade its usage. One must bear in mind that the little brother idolizes our father, an otherwise good man, who recently took umbrage with Don Imus' remarks towards the Rutgers women's basketball team, he felt Imus should have said: Nappy Headed Whores. He even suggested I write a letter to the editor to that fact, I wisely opted not to.

What is the moral of this story? Between a breast starved toddler and a bigoted prepubescent sibling, I am not really sure, Yet, I have always said only in the absurd can one discover the profound...actually I just made that last part up.