Blood Brothers

Let’s be blood brothers. You and me. Or sisters if you’re a girl and I’m a boy. Which I am. “Blood siblings” then, if that sounds better to you.

I have researched this subject endlessly and yes, becoming blood brothers (or whatever) is just as simple as the elders described it. I will find a sharp object with little to no rust on its gashing surface. Then I will cut you. And then you will cut me. It will hurt but we will endure because of the chili cheese fries we would have eaten earlier. Their nutrients will replenish our lost white cells.

Next, as you may have already surmised, we will mix our blood together. For this step, we will need a vessel. Though some old school blood brothers preferred mixing “palm style”, that trend has run its course. It is passé now. Do not try to persuade me to change my mind on this. I stand firmly in the present.

So what shall we use to collect our freshly-flowing biological material? I propose: a tea cup. Probably a cute little one made of fine white china, with robin’s egg blue filigree around its edges. It will be just lovely. To collect our blood. Plus I have one that I purchased at a garage sale for fifty cents. I even got an action figure thrown in for no additional cost because the garage sale owner liked the t-shirt I was wearing. (It read: "Whoop! There it is!" in a jaunty magenta typeface)

Once your plasma juices and mine have successfully commingled in in the formerly-pristine tea cup, we could take another step. I mean, if you wanted to. You may have noticed that I am tiptoeing around the issue. I apologize. Let me come right out with it: I would enjoy it very much if we would drink this mixture of our life-sustaining fluid.

Why the drinking? You find it offensive? Repugnant, even? Well pardon my befuddlement for I find it beautiful. That is correct – I believe that you and I ingesting our combined blood from that cute little tea cup would be a moment that both of us would hold in our memories for many years. I would even like to record video of our blood ritual. It would be in “HD” so every fleck, bubble, and corpuscle would be clearly visible upon review. Ruminate on that for a minute.

What say you? Can I count on your vote? If so, meet me out behind the old mill at half past midnight. The bison will be there for protection only. That is why I have shaved him. The same goes for the horde of pythons (minus the shaving). And the group of senior citizens that I have invited via email. The 1937 Duesenberg is there for our comfort afterward. Lordy, that car is a "beaut" – even if its connection to our bloodletting ceremony is tenuous at best.

So then it is settled: we are to be bonded by our blood. Yay. Break out the party hats and those little things that you blow through to make the squeaky sound. I love them so much. That is so much more festive in my personal opinion.