Wheelchair Shenanigans (A Two Part Series)

  The following are two micro-stories centered on my brother's adventures in my wheelchairs. The first story is about my Electric Wheelchair and the second is about my Manual Wheelchair.

Part 1.

  One morning I woke up, got into my Electric Wheelchair and turned it on only to find that the battery was dead. I got out of the chair and looked at the charger. It was plugged in, but upon further inspection, I noticed all four of my tires were caked with mud. Immediately, I knew who was responsible and stormed into my brother's room.

"Why the hell is my wheelchair muddy, and why is the battery dead?" I yelled.

  My brother uncovered his head. "Will you chill out?" He said groggily, "Sorry, we killed your battery. I put it on the charger."

"We?" I asked. It was then that I noticed our cousin asleep on the floor. A large bulging trash bag lay beside him. "What the hell did you guys do last night?"

"Give me an hour and I'll be in there." My brother replied.

  I went to the kitchen and made myself some cereal. I took it into the living room and found something suitable to watch on TV. My brother came in less than an hour later and stretched out on the couch.

"Last night was freaking crazy," He said.

  He began weaving me a tale; He and our cousin took my wheelchair out just after I fell asleep around eleven and returned at three, just four hours before I woke. My brother drove the chair while our cousin either walked beside him or rode on the back. The details of their adventure have faded, but it involved spray paint, getting stuck in the mud and an accident ending with a trash bag full of candy and mini bottles of sprite. My brother confessed that the chair's battery died a little ways down the street and that they had to push it back to our house. There was a steep ramp leading up to the porch and the thought of them struggling to get the heavy wheelchair up it made me feel as though a little justice had been served.

"Oh, you're going to have to keep your wheelchair inside today," my brother said at the end of his story.

"Why?" I asked hesitantly.

"The less you know the better," was the only reply I got.

Part 2.

  My brother, a couple of our friends and I went to dinner with the church youth group. After awhile, the four of us went outside while everyone else was socializing. My brother asked to sit in my manual wheelchair, so I sat on a bench while the three boys took turns seeing who could ride a wheelie the longest.

  I watched as my brother, on his turn, decided to roll himself to the corner of the street while doing a wheelie (He is quite the impressive show off). My cousin came out of the restaurant and he and one of our friends thought it would be a great idea to pretend to 'steal a handicap person's' wheelchair. All three of them ran at my brother, tipped him out of the chair and pretended to assault him while one of them hopped in the chair and another pushed the chair away.

  Ever the prankster, my brother played along and pretended to be 'victimized.' Their act appeared genuine enough, because at that moment a truck that was passing by pulled quickly into the parking lot. Four men jumped out and ran at my cousin and our friends. Two waiters and the manager also came out and soon the boys were surrounded.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" They demanded. "Give that boy his chair back." One of the men raised his shirt revealing a gun holstered at his hip.

  The blood drained from all three boys faces. It didn't help that my brother was still crawling on the ground, begging for his wheelchair.

"He's not handicap!" My cousin shouted.

"Damit dude, get up!" our friends pleaded.

  Unable to keep from laughing, my brother finally got up. The men looked at him in disbelief.

"What are you stupid punks doing?" The manager asked, "Who's wheelchair is that?"

"It's my sister's." My brother pointed to me sitting on the bench. I waved timidly, a look of what I hoped was chagrin, but was probably a smirk, on my face. They all looked at me in shock.

"Sorry," I grimaced.

"Give her wheelchair back and you kids get out of here. I don't wanna see you around here causing trouble again," the manager fumed.

  As funny as it may sound, I never returned to that restaurant again.