It began with a simple debate.

I had my brother in a headlock and sawed into his scalp with a serrated knife. He broke the hold, and my arm, ripped a bloody handful of hair from my head and shoved it into my mouth. We circled each other. I whistled and my pet falcon descended with talons ready, shredding my brother's face. I seized the opportunity to shoot him in the kneecap with the Derringer hidden in my man-purse.

'Enough,'� he said.

I called off the falcon.

'Okay. Okay. Diet Dr. Pepper tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper,'� he said.