My youngest brother always keeps me entertained. My parents and other family members wouldn’t entirely agree, but he really makes life interesting. It’s not that he is a funny person, but what he does that’s funny. He’s funny in a Chris Farley kind of way. His actions and mannerisms are what make him humorous.
Like the rest of America, our family ventured the mall the weekend after Thanksgiving in search of slashed prices and hot deals. My parents were looking for a new pair of dress shoes for my brother and we’re sitting together in Foley’s watching him try on pair after pair after pair. It was an exhaustive process. He’s really particular about his shoes because he has gargantuan feet and likes to curl his toes. Nothing really seemed to work, until he tried on a pair of Steve Madden slip ons. Even these weren’t really fitting right, but somehow he squeezed his size 12 foot into those shoes after wiggling, finagling, and finally stomping them in place.
I forgot to mention, my brother was trying on dress shoes in cargo shorts. He looked like an old guy who was mowing his yard or filling up the gas tank. And he’s a pretty good sized boy, strapping and solid. As soon as he stands up with his slip ons, he looks in the mirror, pauses, and then does something completely bizarre. In a very high-pitched voice, he says, “I’m a little Dutch boy. I’m from Holland!” and proceeds to dance around the chairs by hopping from one foot to the other. It was a Pillsbury-esque.
My mom looked on in complete embarrassment, while my dad regained his composure in the mens’ sport coat section. I was doubled over at the side of the shoe section and the 50-year-old shoe guy slowly backed away. By the way, he didn’t buy those pair of shoes.