BrotherMen

Stories & Discussions From Men Of Color

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My Sister's Vagina

One day, my sister calls me. That's fine, but she called me on my cell phone, from her house, where I just happened to be right then.
Me:
Um, I'm downstairs, you let me in, why are you calling me on the phone from the other room?
Her:
I don't want to be in the same room with you for this.
Me:
Okay, crazy woman. What is it?
Her:
I want to talk to you about my vagina
Me:
(looking at the phone) Louisa May Alcott! (FTR: I actually said that, I just assume that the author of Little Women automatically pop into the mind of any man when their sister wants to talk to them about their vagina) I don't want to talk about your...I don't you to tell me about your...what is wrong with you? You just don't say stuff like that to your brother!
Her:
You're my damn brother, I'll tell you anything I want.
Me:
No you won't!
Her:
You shut and listen to me tell you about this!
Me:
(singing the la la la part of Minnie Ripperton's Loving You--this will turn out to be ironic, later)
Her:
What are you, 12? Stop it!
Me:
OK! Dammit, I just want to be on the record about how uncomfortable I am about all of this. When they make me point on the doll to see where you touched me, I'm pointing to the head because you done messed up my mind.
Her:
Shut up and listen. I'm having a hysterectomy next week.
Me:
Oh. Whoa. What....um, when...um. Okay. Why? It's because of that Demon Seed that you call a son, isn't it? I told you that boy was trouble when he was playing jump rope with his umbilical cord and got it wrapped up in it...
Her:
(laughing) you make me sick! But this is why I wanted to talk to you about this
Me:
You need a priest for that boy, Only the power of Christ compelling that child will save us, now.
Her:
(laughing) No, stupid!
Me:
Soooo...why are you talking to me about this and not your Mother and Sister and Aunts?
Her:
You know why.
Me:
Oh, they freaking you out, huh?
Her:
They are scaring me to death, grossing me out and pissing me off all at the same time.
Me:
Now you know how I feel, but usually you are in on that action, annoying me, too.
Her:
Really? I give you good advice and you say I annoy you, chump?
Me:
Moving on, weren't we talking about your vagina issues?
Her:
Hmph. Anyway, I have Fibroids. I have had 4 operations and the doctors say that having a "hysto" is my only option.
Me:
Wait, you've had 4 operations? So those times you were "sick" you were actually "recovering"? And is "hysto" the proper medical slang? What's "Fibroids?
Her:
Go to the computer, I have some screens up.
Me:
(looking at computer) Sweet Mother Of Jesus! It looks like an alien invasion up in there! Eww this isn't your vagina is it?
Her:
No, stupid! Why would I show you my vagina?
Me:
WHY ARE WE EVEN HAVING THIS CONVERSATION THAT HAS MADE ME FANTASTICALLY UNCOMFORTABLE???
Her:
Because I'm scared and I need to talk to someone who will listen to me and make me laugh.
Me:
Well. That's the nicest th--
Her:
And Eddie Murphy ain't returning my calls, so I had no choice but to call you.
Me:
(singing)...back to life, back to reality.
Her:
(laughing)
Me:
So, when you had to have the C-Section when you gave birth to my nephew, The Anti-Christ, that wasn't because of the umbilical cord thing, huh?
Her:
No, it was because of the Fibroids. They told me that I couldn't have children because of them but I got pregnant and wanted to have him.
Me:
Oh, that's deep. Please use that to make him feel incredibly guilty the way Moms uses my big head as reason to guilt me about how painful her giving birth to me was.
Her:
You do have a big head. (She sticks her head out of the bedroom door and holds her hands out wide to describe how big my head is. I flip her the bird.)
Me:
Why are you scared?
Her:
I'm afraid I might not make it.
Me:
You shut up with that shit. You are going to be fine.
Her:
You don't know that.
Me:
Yeah, I do. You have too much to live for. You didn't damn near kill yourself to have that hammerheaded son of yours to leave him alone with that fool you laid down with and...
Her:
Fucked? Say it , Fuuuuuuuucked.
Me:
Messy.
Her:
(laughing)
Me:
You're not gonna die. You are going to come out of this feeling better than you ever felt and possibly turn into a whore because you won't be able to get pregnant.
Her:
You say the sweetest things.
Me:
Thank you.
Her:
I did pray to God and asked him to keep me alive long enough to see you get with a good woman, so that means I will be around for at least another 60-70 years, easy.
Me:
Tee, fucking, Hee.
Her:
Ahh, thanks Bro. I feel much better.
Me:
I don't. I found out more about your vagina, today, than any man needs to know.
Her:
If you're going to be sick, get out of here. I don't want any of that on my carpet.
Me:
I love you, too.
Her:
Now I'm going to be sick, get out. *click*

Filed under african american fibroid louisa may alcott vagina monolog that i never wanted to have

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