I remember the tragic incident all too clearly..

I remember the tragic incident all too clearly.. It all started on a Thursday night.

My brother asked.. wait, more like ordered me to fry/cook/grill (whatever the thing u do to burgers is) burgers for me and my brother for dinner.. So, I said.. ok fine, I retorted that I would get it done later..

By the time I had gone downstairs,he was mumbling unintelligibly *most probably cursing, no prizes for guessin at who* as I came late.. (the poor guy had to wait for two whole minutes). He had, being the genius he is,in order to thaw the burgers, dipped the whole lot in water!!! (Okay,I might have overdramatised the whole thing with the multiple exclamation marks). The burgers were all sticking together as if they were just reunited after being separated since birth, and I just managed to salvage two.. meaning the other two were permanantly disfigured as I was not being able to tell where one ended and the next one began.. As I slapped them onto the pan, I could hear my 16-year old brother laughing hysterically at some tv programme upstairs..

The damn pig.

But I could have the last laugh, I decided.. I was going to get... *drumroll*.. the two perfect burgers!! (yes, I realise the build-up was more than the end product)But, at least the thought of it put a smile on my face.. I put my round nicely made burgers in between slices of bread which was slathered with mayonaise and butter, added Lingam's chilli sauce and was about to dig in ..

Suddenly, "Hey, it's not fair!!" my brother shouted.. "How come you got the good burgers?!" (and all the brains, i was dying to add..) "Too bad!" I almost shouted back in reply, the whole acting like a bunch of 7 year olds was really contagious, but I held myself back.. "Well,moron, you're the one who dipped them in water!" I shouted back. Acting like a 5 year old was way more fun. "Well, I don't care! You must take one bad burger so it's equal," said he. ...Well, I'm sure you could use a little imagination to figure out the continuation to this conversation.

At one point, I can't recollect what he said or did.. but it couldnt have been very nice as I was made to believe that the only way to stop the childish bickering was to permanantly lodge my fist in his face, and so I did(making him look a whole lot better in the process) when it happened.

'Click'.

I looked down and realised that one of my fingernails had broken halfway.. to be precise, the fourth/ring finger on my right hand. I looked up again and my brother wasnt there. Like magic or something. *Now I realise it's more likely that he ran away in fear* Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I went up to my room.

I cried.

I really don't know why I cried. It didn't really hurt. It was just that I had always wanted to have long fingernails, and when I finally could (these damn schools don't allow long fingernails, though I personally think they would help lower the rape statistics if used for self'defence). I had failed the first few times, breaking or chipping them. I had finally managed to maintain such long nails as I had gotten used to them. Like it was a part of me. Like a pet, or a toe or something.

What I learnt was that with effort, anything is possible. Hey, everyone fails the first few times because of their own mistakes, but even if someone else or something gets in your way, I'll still won't give up.

But the real lesson I learnt was never to lay even a fingernail on my brother, God might be watching.. next time I'll just kick him real hard and then follow through with a clean uppercut.. (finally I can put my long limbs to good use)

P.s. For all those interested, my fingernail is currently recovering from the traumatising experience and is rather comfortable tucked in her plaster.