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Maybe you aren't so bad after all.

"Eat the chicken or eat the pudding." My dad told him. "Just eat something." My brother looked down at the two dishes in front of him. A small bowl of banana pudding and a small plate of orange tinted chicken. Indian food, I thought. Not that great.

I leaned over to him. "Dip the chicken in the pudding. That way you can eat twice as much twice as fast." He looked at me, slightly disgusted. "What?" "It's the same way that people dip french fries in chocolate milkshakes." I continued. "People do that?" My grandmother asked. "Yes," I said. "I know a few people personally who enjoy it." "That's gross."

"Although," she added. "I sometimes dip potato chips in ice cream." I couldn't help but offer an offended look. "It's very strange, but it's a nice blend of sweet and salty."

"Oh." I said. "That's gross."

I turned back to my brother. "But it's the same thing. People like doing stuff like that, maybe you'll like Indian chicken in banana pudding." He stared down at his food. "I dare you." I felt like the devil on his shoulder. "I triple dog dare you." He looked up at me, wide-eyed. Then he smiled. I grinned. He picked up a piece of chicken. "If I puke, it's your fault." "You won't puke." I told him, scooting my chair away.

He dipped the chicken into the pudding and stared at it. "Do it." I told him. "It's something to brag to your friends about." He shoved the entire piece into his mouth and spent the next few minutes struggling to chew it. His face contorted into various expressions that conveyed how truly disgusting it was. I laughed. I couldn't help it.

Finally, he finished. "Good, right?" I asked him. "I am never going to do that again." He said. "Why did you put the entire piece in your mouth?" I asked. "I thought there would be more chicken to hide the pudding flavor." "Did that work?" He thought for a second. "No. It made it worse." We laughed.

It was the closest I've ever felt to my brother.

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