I asked the little brother to help me vacuum my apartment, as I helped him clean his room earlier this weekend. He was a little reluctant,

“The floor isn’t even that dirty.”

I wasn’t going to let him off the hook, “Oh, it’s dirty. I have an indoor cat. You see bits of his cat littler in places, right? That means every bit of this floor could potentially have microbes of cat poo on it.”

Whining conquered with dramatics, he decided if he had to do it, he’d at least enjoy it.

“Okay. I’ll pwn those microbes with my uber micro,” a few weeks ago he watched all the Pure Pwnage episodes.

“Um, okay,” I went to pick up my laundry in the other room.

“I’m at the next level,” he called to me after a few minutes.

“Oh-kay,”

I walked by him in the living room.

“Boss fight!” he pushed the vacuumn towards me until I gave him a stern eye, and he though better of it.

When the vacuum whirred down and I heard “PWNED!” yelled from the other room.

I don’t know if I was as cool as my little brother when I was eleven, but I sure hope so.