“Hello, Dennis. You’re looking particularly dapper this morning,” Mitch said brightly.

“Why thank you, Mitch,” Dennis said dryly, “you’re looking particularly late this morning.”
Mitch laughed as he sauntered into the room and grabbed Dennis in a playful headlock.

“I’m sorry, brother. Who’s the best big brother? C’mon… who is it?” he teased.

Dennis tried to maintain a stoic front, but he was no match for Mitch’s tickling prowess, and was soon reduced to childish giggles. After several breathless pleas from Dennis, Mitch finally released his grasp and sat down across from him. Dennis attempted to compose himself, and yet he couldn’t help but smile. All the brotherly roughhousing made him nostalgic for his youth.

“So. Since you’re coming home now, shall I assume you had a good time last night?”

“Just another Saturday night, my man…” Mitch said with a coy wink, “but onto more serious matters.” Mitch leaned closer to his brother, and put on his serious face. “Denn, I wanted to talk to you this morning about joining me in a very exciting new business venture.”

Dennis crossed his legs. This wasn’t the first time Mitch had approached one of his siblings with a “business opportunity”. Nor was it the second, third, fourth, or even fifth time. His ideas always seemed to follow the same formula: Mitch would be “the face” of the operations, while graciously allowing his brother or sisters to be “the brains”.

“Have you written a business plan?” Dennis asked sternly. Mitch squirmed. His eyes darted about the room as he tried to concoct a plausible excuse.

“I HAVE a business plan, but I left it… in… my business folder. In my office. Downtown. Far away,” he said slowly, finishing off the statement with his trademark grin.

“So you didn’t make one,” Dennis sighed. Mitch pointed to his forehead.

“Didn’t have to make one. It’s all up here, man. It’s a can’t-miss concept. Ready? It’s called… SandMitches.”

Dennis frowned. Sensing that his big brother was not won over, Mitch tried again, this time with a grander approach: he drew his arm slowly through the air and whispered

“SAAANDMITCHESSSS”.

Dennis shook his head.

“You really didn’t learn anything from the whole “MitchWiches” debacle, did you?” he said with a sigh.

Mitch threw his arms in the air.

“Yes I did! You explained it perfectly! You said that I need to take a hard line! Keep my eye on the bottom line! It was definitely something about lines! Also, a crowd draws a crowd.” Mitch said with a confident nod.

“No, I said it was foolish of you to turn away paying customers so that you and your friends had a place to hang out and eat for free,” Dennis said emphatically.

“Right. And after the stuff about the lines I think you also said that it was too expensive and the food wasn’t very good,” Mitch pointed out helpfully.

“And I stand by that,” Dennis replied.

Mitch vigorously nodded his head.

“You’re right. You’re right! I should’ve been more on top of things. But SandMitches will be totally different. Picture this: fast food franchise. A SandMitches in every city! I promise, this time I’ll stay completely behind the scenes, and there will be NO eating for free… unless I’m there on a date. But I’m totally gonna keep costs down. Minimum wage across the board. I’m getting someone to hand out fliers at the local high school this Tuesday. Doing a little recruiting.”

Dennis pretended to consider the idea, as Mitch sat back, nodding his head in self-satisfaction.

“You know,” Dennis finally said, “it’s an interesting concept…”

Mitch pumped his fist and uttered a triumphant “yessss” under his breath.

“…but I think I’d like to research it a little further. How about you put that business plan on paper, and in the meantime I’ll think about whether or not I’d like to be involved.”

Mitch stood up, extended an arm towards his brother, and vigorously shook his hand.

“Thanks, man. You won’t regret it. I’m gonna go… drive… to my office… downtown-ish. Do some work. Maybe take a nap. Also, what are you doing on Tuesday? Maybe just check your schedule and get back to me? That’d be aces,” he said, backing towards the door and giving Dennis his trademark “finger-guns”.

Dennis waved goodbye as his brother ambled out of the room. He chuckled, sat back in his chair, and picked up the newspaper. He suspected he’d never hear of “SandMitches” again. The fact that “MitchWiches” had ever gotten off the ground was a miracle unto itself. Lightning probably wouldn’t strike twice.

A light tapping at the door interrupted Dennis’ thought. He lowered his paper and found his sister Claire, standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face.

“Have you seen Mitch?” she asked anxiously. “He’s late for our meeting. We’re supposed to discuss investment opportunities for his new fashion line. Perhaps he’s mentioned it to you? “Mitchingtons"?"