Blown Way out of Proportion

Yesterday was a normal Sunday, I woke up far too early, and got dressed for church: my nice shirt, pants, shoes, belt, tie, and my awesome Christmas-themed socks. We set off to worship forty-five minutes before church started.

By the time church ended, I was starving, begging my mom to hurry up so we could go home.

"Aren't you going to help every body set up the Christmas tree?" she asked, "You're supposed to."

I mumbled, "No one told me," and hurried off. Every one was surrounding the tree, and there wasn't much room, so me and this kid started playing catch.

We had a great time until my brother showed up and tried to turn it into Monkey-in-the-Middle, despite my repeated No's. He grabbed the ball and ran, I chased him.

Wrapping my arms around him, I wrestled for the ball. He threw it away and I pushed off him going for the ball. On his way down his head hit my knee (in the same way that a car hits a person in the way, regardless of what the person did to the car). His nose began to drip blood, and he hurried off to the bathroom. The whole ordeal lasted less than sixty seconds.

On the way home my Mom talked to my brother and I, "Someone told me, that you two were fighting, and that his," she pointed to my brother, "nose was gushing blood. You two are grounded to your rooms for the rest of the day."

My parents don't ground us too often, which is why it wasn't that bad. I had wanted to spend the rest of the day in my room anyway, but still, the way she said it, you would of thought that my brother and I were having a vicious title match, that we were at each other's throats. Whoever told her blew the story way out of proportion, I've done ten times worse and didn't get punished half as bad.