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You song have no rights, whereas I song have a say in your Iife. We hate each other because we're raised as rivals. It's Dad and Mom's fault. And yet it's not their fault. They think it's good, that it stimulates song us. I think you hated it when I came along. I mean, when I was a baby, you played mommy with me. But when I got bigger - Fatter, you mean! Bitch. When I could start belting you for bossing me around, when you couldn't play mommy anymore, and when I caught up with you Ianguage-wise too. Really? I don't remember that. Are you sure you aren't making it up? No, I remember it really well. The day your passion for educating me ended was when we were in bed one evening, in our pink twin beds, and for some reason you Iaunched into a speech, bossing me around. And wham, I pounced on you. I was pleased because you called Mom to complain that I'd pinched you really hard, and you had two big bruises. Since that day, the wind's gone out of your sails. You've never bossed me around again.
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