Chest Hair

Okay, so I have to tell you that there are things you do with people you’re not related to and you think nothing of it. If a hairy, shirtless dude wanted you to rest your head on his chest, of course! But when it’s your brother, because you’re listening for any weird noises that shouldn’t be there…

You guys, I just cannot get the heebie jeebie memory of his chest hair tickling my ear out of my head!

I try to think about the pleasant chest hair tickles of days past, tickles made by hair that shared no parents with me.

I try to think about maybe the dog leaning against me.

But it does no good.

I’ll also say that the decongestant I bought him to try to alleviate the whistle I heard in his chest was not fucking around. The Butcher took it at 7 p.m. and he pretty much slept until 7 a.m. Considering the dose is once every twelve hours, that works out.

But he’s looking much better today. More like a man who’s getting over something.

In unrelated news, I think I’m going to break down and read Absalom, Absalom. As prep for my haunted house.

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