My little sister used to be an angel. Now she’s a demon.
Every day she waves her phone at me and yells, “Hey, old man, send me money!” She swears like a sailor.
I offered her an ice cream, and she shot back with a meme: “Ice cream assassin! You’re trying to kill me, old man!”
She was even worse at parent-teacher conferences. When the teacher asked whose kid she was, she instantly replied, “I’m my brother’s digital pet. I need regular feedings of dog food.”
I froze on the spot, but she kept going: “Come on, old man, send me 50 yuan, or I’ll post your childhood photos in a dress in the class group chat!”
Then one day she called me a “liquid dog,” and I finally snapped.
I dug out a photo of her wetting the bed at five and made it into a PowerPoint. “Call me that again, and I’ll play this on repeat at the next parent-teacher conference!”
She suddenly went quiet. After a long pause, she said, “Bro… your jokes are so lame.”
The childhood photo of her licking an ice cream, stuck to the fridge, was dripping with water.
