Many years ago my parents (or sister –
I can't remember which) found a brick with the word Kimberly stamped
into it.
That being my sister's name, they kept
the brick and it has always been on the porch, where ever we lived.
I was looking at the brick not long ago
and asked why my parents have a brick with my sister's name but not
one with my name.
Their answer was that they'd never
found a brick with my name on it.
Well, about a week or so after that I
was standing on their porch and I noticed the brick again. I also
noticed a pile of bricks on the back porch so I decided it was time
to end the discrimination.
I grabbed a brick and wrote my name on it
with a Sharpie.
I called my parents outside, showed
them the brick and then watched as they laughed until they almost
cried.
I also sent a picture to my sister who
thought it was hysterical that I've been jealous of a brick.
I'm not jealous any more and if you'll
notice – I put my brick on top.
Sometimes you just have to take matters
into your own hands.
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