I watched with dread as he squished two brownies together and sculpted the wad into a turd. Then he waited. When a trucker pulled up close behind us, he tilted his head back, dangled the nutty log above his mouth, and took a bite. The trucker, who could see what my brother was doing from the back of the station wagon, honked his horn. John, my brother, was delighted. He opened his mouth wide, shoved the rest in, chewed, and swallowed. When he grinned, his teeth were covered with chocolate brownie leftovers. John pressed his face close to the back window of the station wagon so the trucker could get a real good look at his cruddy teeth. The trucker honked again.
“What the h___ is he honking at? Johnnnnnnnn! What is going on back there?” yelled my dad from the front seat. My sisters, who were sitting in the middle, turned to look. I didn’t say a word. I’m not sure if I was more afraid of my dad pulling over or John knuckle-punching me in my arm for telling on him.