Pictures Don't Lie

"The police have a warrant for my arrest."

Not exactly the way I had envisioned ending my evening, with a tall, spicy ceasar in one hand, phone in the other, some 10 years ago.  

Yup, that got my attention pretty quick. The ceasar would have to wait.

After a quick run-down of the particulars of how my brother's name had been added to the dotted line on a warrant, I quickly pinched myself to see whether this was yet another vivid dream that I would eventually wake from.  

Nope, not this time.  Besides which, most of those dreams involved, well, let's just say, no brothers, no mothers, no fathers, no family and no friends.  Just strangers, of the male persuasion, wearing..........smelling........yeah.

Back to the warrant.  It seemed my naive and generous brother, in opening his home to a friend in trouble, had managed to be impersonated by said "friend".  While my brother provided room, board, comfort and counselling to this said friend, (let's call him Fool), Fool was a busy, yet confused bee.  

After a short period of time or reflection or straightedness, Fool fell off the proverbial wagon, and began to slowly but surely relieve my brother of various electronic equipment, clothing, etc to feed his Wagonness.  I guess my brother, we'll call him Stephen, should have been more clearer on how he defined Help, because something got lost in translation.

Fool was no Fool.  He decided to really test the boundaries of Help, only in public.  While out and about, Fool decided to continue to try and feed his Wagonness in many creative ways.  When that creativity was noticed by the general folk, say taxi drivers for one or two or three, he decided to inhabit Stephen, and in essence became the New Stephen to the public at large.  

The New Stephen rode taxis for free, forgetting to pay for fares as he ran out of taxis before the taxi driver could ask for his fare.  The New Stephen also took his relieving act on the road, specifically Yonge Street, where he relieved a few shops of their wares, but not before introducing himself as the New Stephen.  The New Stephen ate a few free dinners, saw a few free films and generally tested the boundaries of being the New Stephen.  All while he still lived under the roof of the Old Bro.

Until he got the attention of the police.  And hence the warrant.  Old Stephen's name on the New Stephen's face.  

A phone call was made to the police station, explaining the error of their ways.  We exchanged information, set up a time to bring in the Old Stephen, so as to set things straight formally.  You see this was before we had cameras on most corners or in every store, and before there was an extensive database and information on all citizenry.  Big Brother was still in his teens then.

We walked into the police station at midnight, introducing ourselves to the officer at the front desk.  It took about two seconds to compare the Old Stephen in his current form to the New Stephen on the warrant, shared a couple of nervous laughs (mostly ours), a few details on where they could find the New Stephen, aka Fool and we were done.

I could have sworn we heard some laughter as we exited the police station.  You see, the New Stephen, aka Fool was black.  My brother the Old and Only Stephen, is white.  Fool was not the sharpest tool in the shed.  

In fact, he was really Stupid.  Really Stupid.