It tastes like burning

Being at home feels like I'm about 13. But, I'm 24...and my little brother is 18, but we act like we're both stupid 14 year olds when we're in the same house together.

Tonight, we're both kicking the soccer ball in the house. Nothing big, just back and forth, and that's when the contest starts. At one end of the house where our rooms are, there's a long hallway, about 25 feet long. But, there's a big cabinet thing that holds my mom's trinkets or whatever the hell they're called. It's about halfway down and there's two doors at each end of the hallway.

I tell Craig I could kick the ball from his room into the door of the room at the end of the the hallway. Again, this is 25 feet away and I haven't played soccer since high school. So, I kick, and it hits a wall, and bounces right into my mom's cabinet, hitting a cermanic angel.

We go to our rooms and hide, laughing our asses off. We come out, see our parents aren't awake and the angel survived, and Craig decides to try it. He does, it richochets off the wall and into a table on the other side of the room. Same thing, we run, laugh, then try it again.

This time we get about 10 feet from the open door and see there's nothing in the room at the end of the hall. We decide to "kick the hell out of the ball" as Craig puts it. I'm first and I miss, hitting every wall and non-open door in the away like a pin-ball machine. It makes a loud crash like someone is running into the walls at full speed. Craig does it, and it goes into the room, only to hit the window. It didn't break.

My mom finally wakes up and gets on to us and tells us to go to bed.

Looking back, I feel like I'm in the 9th grade again. Minus the curfew.