Shawn: I have a new short film idea.
Ann: Oh, God…
Shawn: The idea is, FDR goes to complete in the 1936 Olympics so that he can get a chance to assassinate Hitler. I call it: “Stand Up for America.” Get it? It works on a lot of levels. ‘Cause FDR–
Ann: –can’t stand, yes, I got it.
Shawn: I’m thinking that when FDR wins the pole vault competition and Hitler comes over to shake his hand, FDR should spear him through the chest and yell, “Hey Hitler! Looks like there’s nothing to fear but spear itself!”
Ann: You’re really unacceptable.

Confession time. In a fit of whatever the hell it is that makes me do these things, I did draft a screenplay for this. Here’s a sample.

FDR: Members of the cabinet, I have called this meeting today because I wanted to discuss a matter that concerns all of you. Hitler’s Germany grows in power every day, and it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world suffers the consequences. I propose we stop the threat here and now before it’s too late.

SEC. WAR: Mr. President, the American people won’t support involvement in any European conflict, much less one we initiate!

FDR: I understand that, George. Which is why I’m going to take care of Hitler myself.

SEC. WAR: Mr. President . . . ?

FDR: My plan is to infiltrate the 1936 Olympics. They’re being held in Berlin in exactly one month, and Hitler will personally shake hands with all the gold medalists. That means all I have to do is win first place in the pole vault, and I’ll have a shot at taking him out.

SEC. WAR: Uhh . . . couldn’t we send someone else? Someone whose . . . um . . . legs work?

FDR: No, it has to be me. I couldn’t ask any other man to take that risk.  Which means I need to spend every second of every day between now and then training my body and mind to become the ultimate pole vaulting/killing machine. And you gentlemen are going to help me.

SEC. WAR: But Mr. President, you’ll be recognized! Hitler will see right through you!

FDR: (taking out mustache) Not if I don this clever disguise. With this gigantic mustache, Hitler is sure to take me for an Italian.

It pretty much keeps going downhill from there. This is why it’s important to listen to Ann sometimes.

Hello, I need help.

My internet doesn’t work.

Right. Yes, I can hold.

Hi. Good, how are you?

Yes, my internet is out.

It’s been out all day.

Reset the router?

Okay, I’ll give it a try.

No, that didn’t do it.

Reset it again?

Okay, but I just did that.

Guess what? Still broken.

Which light do you mean?

At the top of the router?

Still orange like before.

I reset it twice.

We know now that does not help.

Any other thoughts?

It’s orange. It’s still orange.

It’s going to stay orange unless

you try something else.

I won’t reset it.

Third time is not the charm here.

Check things on your end.

Okay, fine, I’ll hold.

… Hi there. My account is what?

Why can’t you find it?

Huh? Transfer me where?

No, I’m in Connecticut.

My phone number’s just–

I’m on a cellphone.

It’s a Maryland number,

but I’m living here.

No, I’m not lying.

Yes, I have the same address.

I’d know if I moved.

Well, that’s pretty odd,

’cause you’ve been mailing me bills.

Ah, great, you’ve found it.

Still orange. You know why?

Because nothing has happened

here that would change that.

What? No, of course not.

I don’t have a spare router.

Why would I have that?

I WON’T RESET IT.

Please have a new idea,

I am begging you.

Oh, for the love of–

ORANGE. THE COLOR OF FAILURE.

TIME WON’T MAKE IT GREEN.

Okay, look, can you–

Can you send someone out here?

Yes, I would like that.

My address? But I–

I thought we just sorted that–

What? But… Fine, I’ll hold.

On this very special Valentine’s Day, Shawn and I just wanted you to know…

You’re welcome.

Happy V-Day from Sibling and Charybdis! …And Nicolas Cage.

How did the hipster burn the roof of his mouth on a slice of pizza?

…

He tried it before it was cool.

Eh? Eh?!

Ann: No, let’s get something straight here. Real Boy is not going up on Broadway. Because it’s your idea for a musical about a transsexual Pinocchio. No one will watch that.

Shawn: But—

Ann: Shawn. No one.

Shawn: People liked Transamerica.

Ann: Do you see how this is not the same as that?

Shawn: Did I tell you my idea for one of the musical numbers? It’s entitled, “I Don’t Want to Have a Woody.”

Ann: WHY ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT THIS?!

My family has some really productive arguments. Here’s an example:

Shawn: I think I want to become a crazy pastry chef whose catchphrase is, “Pie way or the highway!”

Mom: Or better–how about, “Pie way or the sky way”?

Ann: Mom, that doesn’t make any sense.

Mom: Well, neither does his.

Ann: Yeah, but his is a pun on an existing expression.

Mom: So’s mine!

Shawn: Yours kinda takes it too far.

Mom: It’s a double pun!

(15 minutes later)

Mom: I still don’t see what’s wrong with my version.

Shawn: This is… simply exhausting.

Ann: PIE WAY OR THE SKY WAY DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING.

Mom: Sure it does.

Ann: Then what’s a sky way, Mom? Huh?

Mom: Well, what’s a pie way?

Shawn: Nothing, it’s just a pun!

Mom: Sky way is just a pun.

Shawn: No it’s not! It’s a random expression!

Ann: WHY ARE WE STILL ARGUING ABOUT PIE WAY OR THE STUPID FLIPPIN’ SKY WAY?!

Mom: I still don’t see what’s wrong with it.

Shawn: Okay. I’m going to take one more run at this.

(15 minutes later)

Shawn: So you get it now, right? “Sky way” doesn’t make any sense. It isn’t a pun on anything. It just happens to rhyme with “highway.” It is in absolutely no way related to the joke. At all.

Mom: Well, okay. But it makes it crazier. Don’t you two like crazy?

Ann: …That’s a point.

Shawn: That is a point.

Ann: Now I think I actually like it better her way.

Shawn: Yeah, I’m with you.

Ann: “Pie way or the sky way” it is!

Shawn: I’m glad that took 45 minutes.

Being a good big brother is all about looking out for your sibling, so I always did my best to help my parents take care of my sister. Of course, I had my own very distinct ideas about what exactly that entailed. Here’s an example, from when Ann was four and I was eight.

Mom: I just can’t get Ann to brush her teeth without constantly nagging her.

Dad: I know, I’ve talked to her about it twice already. What do you think we should do?

Shawn: (from the corner, where I’m sitting, coloring) Don’t worry, I got this.

Mom: You got this? What does that mean?

Shawn: Nothing, don’t worry about it.

Mom: … Should we do something here?

Dad: If he doesn’t tell us what he’s planning, we have plausible deniability.

Mom: Good point. Carry on, sweetie.

Thus implicitly authorized by my parents to get my little sister to brush her teeth by any means necessary, I immediately went to work.

Shawn: Hey Ann, guess what?

Ann: What?

Shawn: You know about the tooth fairy, right?

Ann: Yeah…

Shawn: Well, did you ever hear about the evil tooth fairy?

Ann: The evil tooth fairy?

Shawn: Uh huh. She’s just like the tooth fairy, except instead of taking your teeth when they fall out, she snatches them right out of your mouth.

Ann: (eyes widening) What?

Shawn: The worst part is, once she yanks your teeth out, she eats them right in front of you. Laughing.

Ann: But, but–

Shawn: Don’t worry though. So as long as you brush your teeth, she won’t get you. She only likes dirty teeth, because clean teeth don’t taste good to her. And they’re too hard to pull out with her pliers. Which have spikes.

Ann: If I don’t brush, she’ll really come take my teeth??

Shawn: Oh yes. Just look at this drawing.

Ann: Oh no!

Shawn: (is suddenly struck by the same realization that made medieval Catholicism go bad) … There’s another way to get rid of her, you know. You know how the good tooth fairy takes your teeth and gives you money?

Ann: Yeah…

Shawn: Well, if you leave the bad tooth fairy money, she won’t take your teeth. Just put a quarter under your pillow every night. Or, you know what’s easier? Just give it to me, and I’ll make sure she gets it.

Ann: But I don’t have to, right, if I remember to brush my teeth?

Shawn: Hmm, I dunno. What if you forget or don’t do a good enough job? Do you really want to wake up in the middle of the night to see the evil tooth fairy standing over your bed, eyes glowing red in the night, cackling as she eats your filthy teeth right in front of you?

Ann: (panics) Mooooooooomm!!! (runs out of the room)

Shawn: Dang, overdid it.

My parents were not exactly pleased by my attempt to set up an evil tooth fairy extortion racket. I admit I probably deserved the stern talking-to I received. I will say, however, that even though my parents disabused Ann of the notion that there was an evil tooth fairy waiting to attack her in the night, they could not totally efface the primal fear I’d managed to instilled in her heart. As a consequence, you can bet your ass she started brushing her teeth. And if my methods work, is it really so bad to expect a little remuneration for my efforts? Just sayin’.