My Big Brother Is A Bottom

This piece was written as an original oratory. The idea is that high school students could memorize and perform it at speech and debate competitions. Not that they should.

Dear Ms. Delaney-St. Lamont,

I am Bennigan’s mother, Pepper. You remember me, don’t you? Pepper Hoffstrom. Well now, it’s Pepper Lancaster. Mrs. Pepper Lancaster. I know it’s been quite some time since we’ve seen one another and I wish it were under different circumstance that we were reconnecting. But as you’ve probably expected, I’m writing to request an in-person conference to discuss today’s incident.

Certainly, I will better understand why you reacted the way you did once we have our little sit-down, but just so you know, I’m still quite distressed after hearing Bennigan’s side of the story today. He came home practically in tears! I rarely see my son in that state and I’ve never seen him throw a lawn chair across the backyard like he did. What upper body strength, though. My husband thinks he should try out for the wrestling team when he gets to high school and see if the coaches can make something out of him. If you ask me, I think he might even have a shot at varsity if he can channel that strength into some Greco-Roman takedowns. But hey, I’m not a wrestling scout. And what do I know about athletics anyway, right? I just think my son has the potential to do anything, and if a spot on the high school wrestling team is in his future, then you can bet your flat, twice-divorced fanny that I’ll be the most supportive mother in the stands — wearing his letterman jacket and shaking one of those loud-as-blazes milk jugs full of pennies. But that’s just how things work in the Lancaster household. We support one another no matter what. Which is why I have the tiniest issue with how you spoke to my son today.

In case you were wondering, the answer is yes. We did see his show-and-tell presentation and we thought it was lovely. My husband even called it “informative” and said it was “just the kind of thing to get second graders thinking.” Oh, you remember my husband, Morty Lancaster, don’t you? You two briefly dated in college, correct? That’s back when we all ran in the same circle and I was seeing that studly architecture major with the squid tattoo; Mauricio, or Giovanni, or something European and greasy-sounding. Anyway, I remember when you dumped Morty because you supposedly walked in on him performing oral sex on one of his fraternity brothers. What a shame that was. Of course, I never believed the story because, at the time, I thought you were an obnoxious cow with the moral fiber and intelligence of, well, a cow.

At the time, that is.

Shortly after, I broke up with the greasy architecture student because he tried to proposition me into a threesome with his other girlfriend, and I set my sights on the wounded and slightly more feminine arms of Morty Lancaster. It took some real browbeating, but eventually, he gave in and took me to dinner at Winky’s Catfish Shanty. The rest is history. And now I’m Mrs. Pepper Lancaster and you’re Ms. Caroline Delaney-St. Lamont. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? Even though your second marriage recently came to end and you’re basically exactly where you were in our college days: single and intolerant. Believe me, I can understand your frustration, what with your having to sit alone in restaurant bars after spending your days in a classroom full of second graders. But that’s no reason to take it out on my child. He’s proud of his big brother and he just wanted his classmates to know it. As you may have gathered before you berated him in front of his peers, Bennigan’s older brother, Hampton, is gay.

Now, Hampton has been “out” for nearly ten years now, and his father and I fully embrace the way God made him — ever since the day he made the big announcement at age nine. Heck, we were his cheerleaders! I’d take him to the salon with me to get his bangs shaped and Morty even taught him how to walk in heels. And speech therapy? Ha! That lisp was part of the package wasn’t it? Changing it would be like taking wings off a butterfly. And with our help, Hampton Lancaster grew up intelligent, cultured, skinny, prissy, judgmental, opinionated, witty, fashionable, and sassy. Just like his father. Then, when Bennigan was born, all stocky and stoic, and we knew that we had a little apple to compliment our little orange. Those two couldn’t be more different. And yet, Bennigan looks up to Hampton the way Hampton looks up to Jessica Lange. It’s really something special that you’ve tried to squash with you cankle-anchored feet.

And for your information, the booklet Bennigan made out of construction paper for show-and-tell was a gesture of love for his older sibling, and not an “inappropriate art project depicting deviant behavior.” Sure, the crayon drawings of Hampton and his boyfriend, Omar, may have been a little too honest for certain small-minded audiences — especially the one where Hampton is sitting on Omar’s lap. But couldn’t you have at least praised Bennigan’s artistry and interpretation of the male anatomy before chastising him in front of the entire class? Furthermore, I think it took some real creativity on my son’s behalf to come up with a title like My Big Brother Is A Bottom.

He might look like a pygmy moose, but that boy's got savvy for sure. And it really broke my heart to see him so crestfallen because, according to him, his teacher is an “oppressive bitch.” Normally, I would’ve reprimanded him for such language, but since the Lancaster boys drafted their “Free Cussing” amendment to the family constitution, I couldn’t infringe upon his freedom. This amendment passed shortly after Hampton’s “Right To Bear Bears” amendment — a real game-changer that led to our meeting Omar, a large, hairy, African American man in his late thirties, and Hampton’s lover. You remember love, don’t you? It’s that thing you’re looking for at the bottom of that glass of chardonnay. That thing that keeps slipping through your fingers.

But don’t worry yourself sick, Ms. Delaney-St. Lamont. Some desperate man with bad breath and bad credit will come into your life, and, God willing, open your eyes to the bigger picture. But for now, I’m going to serve your exboyfriend, my husband, Morty Lancaster dinner. Then we’re going to take our sons and Omar to a Tea Party rally and then maybe out for froyo.

Looking forward to seeing you again,

Mrs. Pepper Lancaster

P.S. Attached, you’ll find a booklet I made myself with pictures of Mr. Lancaster and me. It’s called, My Wife Is A Top.