NOBODY PUTS PLUTO IN THE CORNER (or tall guys shouldn't wear blue hats)

The early years of my high school career were spent with my parents and my older brother (whom we lovingly refer to as Bullshit Bill) in a small townhouse in Orange County. This was not the glamorous Orange County of the film with the same name, or the television show The O.C. Think Slums of Beverly Hills and you'll get the idea.

Being an all-around general pain in the ass, as most teenagers are, my brother had gotten himself in to quite a bit of hot water (to put it mildly) lately. He had been dating an inappropriately older woman (like Mary Kay Latourneau inappropriate) and our parents had finally decided to put their collective foot down. Henceforth a curfew was to be enforced; A curfew which was utterly and completely unfair and unrealistic: 1 am.

On this particular Friday, Bill had left the house earlier that afternoon and was already gone by the time our parents got home. As the sun began to set over the barrio, the scowls on our parents faces became increasingly terrifying and when the clock slowly ticked it's way to 1:07 my mom exploded like a nuclear bomb. The profanity flew like a shock wave through our tiny two-story apartment. Around 1:30 the phone rang. My mother answered it and listened with a frighteningly quiet rage, then without saying a word she hung up. My stepfather asked, "Was that Bill?" My mother nodded. "Where is he?" My mom picked up her purse and headed toward the front door. She muttered something that sounded like "Disneyland" and then left.

Over an hour went by before we heard our old green Bronco pulling up out front. Soon my brother burst through the door in a manner reminiscent of Kramer from Seinfeld with his excuse exploding from his mouth like some verbal vomit he was unable to contain: "It's not my fault" He said in an unnecessarily high volume. "I was on my way out, 'cause I didn't wanna be late, 'cause of my curfew. I don't know what happened. I was the tallest guy in the crowd. I was wearing a blue hat. Someone pointed the finger at me..." Before he could finish, my parents and I cut him off, yelling in frustrated anticipation,

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Bill put his head down, let out a somber sigh, and with a seriousness I have never heard from him before or since, said: "Pluto got pushed."

We all looked at each other.

"Pluto got pushed?" I said.

"Why would you push Pluto?" Our father asked. My brother flew off the couch, flailing his arms wildly and yelled,

"I WOULD NEVER PUSH PLUTO. I love Pluto. He's a lovable fucking dog. I told you, I was the tallest guy in the crowd! I was wearing a blue hat! Next thing I know the Adventureland police are taking me away to Mickey Mouse jail. I told you they got the wrong guy."

The mystery of who pushed Pluto remains unsolved to this day. I don't know if it was because my parents believed my brothers story, or if they were just so impressed with the bizarre creativity of his excuse that they didn't have the heart to punish him, but in any event, on this early Saturday morning Bullshit Bill lived to B.S. another day.