“Hey, Frank! How long has it been since we arm wrestled?”
Franked smiled crookedly as he poured himself another beer. “Aren’t we a little old for that?”
“What? How can anyone be too old for an arm wrestling match? Come on, give me your arm.” Frank’s brother, Tony, set about clearing the kitchen table.
It had been years since their last match and Frank liked it that way. He had done his best to avoid the subject because the fact was Tony was much stronger than Frank and always would be so he tended to lose these matches. Frank hated losing. Especially to Tony. His brother bragged about every victory as if it were the Olympics. Sometimes Frank thought Tony honestly expected a parade in his honor just for forcing his little brother’s hand to the table.
Personally, Frank had always seen beyond personal strength. He saw its value, but he also saw its limitations. While Tony had been pumping iron in high school, Frank had been studying, earning a scholarship, and paving the way for his immensely successful career.
But no matter how hard he worked or how much he earned, it always came back to this: the test of one man’s arm against another’s.
“Come on, Frank, show us what you got.”
Frank had no choice. If he refused to compete, his brothers would taunt him for cowardice. If he lost, they would taunt him for being weak. There was no way to make them shut up, no matter what he did, so he might as well put a good face on it and participate.
Frank set his beer down on the kitchen counter, took his seat across from Tony, and placed his elbow on the table. Tony’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. He knew as well as Frank did who was going to win this competition. Frank focused on everything he had that his brother didn’t as he took Tony’s hand.
Their brother, Vince, counted down, and when he was finished, Frank’s arm immediately started to lean towards the table. He held out longer than he had thought he would, but the end was inevitable. Tony forced his arm down to the table, then jumped up screaming. All their other brothers joined in his celebrating with yells and chest bumps and in-your-faces.
Frank retrieved his beer and waited calmly for them all to settle down. Eventually, Tony said, “Aw, come on, Frank. Don’t be a sore loser.”
“I’m not. I’m just enjoying my beer. Heineken’s my favorite. I like to savor it.”
“What’s that, some kind of pussy beer? Why can’t you drink real beer like a man?”
“Real beer? You mean the Budweiser you so kindly provided? I don’t think it’s necessarily manly to drink flavored water. You might as well be drinking seltzer water with raspberries in it. Would that be manly enough for you?”
“What did you say?”
“I said if you’re going to drink ‘real beer’ it has to come from people who really know how to make beer.”
“Are you saying Americans don’t know how to make beer?”
“Not at all. I’m saying Budweiser doesn’t know how to make beer. Or they do and they choose to make flavored water instead to keep prices down. As long as you Neanderthal’s keep drinking it, everybody’s happy right?”
“Listen, twerp, just because I drink American beer doesn’t make me a caveman. It makes me a patriot.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. It means I know how to show some loyalty.”
“Do you? That’s funny, I don’t think Linda would agree.”
Frank knew bringing up the ex-wife was a low blow, but then Tony knew how much Frank hated to arm wrestle.
Besides, it had the intended effect. Tony swore harmless four-letter words at him, then left him alone.
To be continued …
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