Dead...Part 1 of a Compilation of Shorts Called The Calibration

"They do make a good point", she said as she pointed to the priest that sitting in her living room for their brother's funeral reception. "He never accepted religion as it came to others. He never really accepted anything that had a debate about".

The room was full of their mothers close friends and co-workers that actually felt so sorry for their mother that they almost came because of pure obligation. Her boss sent out an email to everyone on the staff except her telling them that if they did not attend the funeral, then there would be consequences.

Ben sat in a very large chair that he remembered his brother used to pick his boogers and wipe them on the side of the chair as if they were trophies that he was proud of. He remembered the fights they used to get into when he would wipe his snot on Ben's sweatshirts when he would get sick (which happened to be most of them time considering his immune system was so frigile so much because of the lukemia). Ben realized that he would let him have all his clothes as hankies to use, if only he could have his brother back.



The crowd spoke to each other, while sipping their sangria trying to only subtley get drunk before they leave to depress the melancholly that lingered around the room, and it seemed to be a large wafting in Ben's ears. He almost tried to forget why he was their by closing his eyes and thinking about the blood rushing past his ears through his brain. He felt like he was going to wake up at some point and his brother would still be there tugging on his jean shorts to play rochambo with him.

He opened his eyes, and he realized that his bottom was wet from something, and he looked down and he had let himself go in his pants. Being nine years old one should be able to hold themselves from going to the bathroom in their pants (or at least thats what their mother always told him when he wet the bed at night). He burst into tears.

His mother came from the other side of the room, and abondoned the convorsation that she was having with reverond O'hanlon about how Tim was an above average child of our age. She walked over the large green velvet chair, while everyone's attention was directed at Ben, and she squatted down in between his legs and whispered to him with tears in her eyes, "Are you ok sweetheart?"

Sobbing by this point he threw his arms around his mother and she lifted him up in her arms and walked up stairs to his racecar themed room. She closed the door and Ben changed his dress pants into his normal white underwear. He stood their helplessly half naked with his little nipples shivering up as a breeze came through the tree from outside and into the window. His mother closed the window, and picked him up, and through the sniffles and sobs he asked his mother to stay with him and not go back down to the party.

She looked at him and shed the only smile she could muster from the last couple weeks. She was a tall burnette and her black gown was even taller. It dragged along the bottom floor as she walked over to him.

"Come on, honey lets go to bed" she softly spoke to him holding out her hand.

He grabbed ahold of the stretched out fingertips and they made their way to the racecar bed that he had recieved on his seventh birthday. he got under the covers and his mother lay over them and they laid in the dark together. Before they were both asleep, Ben (going through fond memories of his younger brother in his head) turned over and grabbed ahold of his mothers chin and directed it towards his face. Laying parrallel to each other separated by only a few inches, eyes staring wide-eyed at each other he whispered, "Mommy?"

"Yea, Sweety?" she just barely got out from beyone her teeth.

"I'm Bored".