The Story of Edgar Allan Poe and Ethan Allan

A long time ago, in the city of Baltimore lived two step-brothers, Ethan Allen and Edgar Allan Poe. They were more than step-brothers, they were best friends. The boys were inseparable, and Edgar always looked out for his kid brother. Anything Edgar did, Ethan did as well. Ethan loved being around his older brother. He was so smart and deep, and he was everything Ethan wanted to be.

By the time Edgar was twenty, he had reached the status of “starving artist.” He believed that not eating earned him more artistic gravitas. Ethan was in awe and tried to go starving as well, with little success to show for it. Knowing he couldn’t compete with Edgar’s appetite or literary prowess, he decided instead to work with his hands and build things. Edgar was happy his brother found his career path, albeit as a simple layman. “Still,” Edgar reasoned, “the world needs ditch diggers too.”

As Edgar’s rejection letters began to compile, his brother Ethan found his niche making good furniture at reasonable prices. One day Ethan visited Edgar at his apartment. It had been a particularly rough day for Edgar, the creative muse had taken temporary leave, and he was dressed in all black. Before he stepped inside the apartment, Ethan announced, “Brother, I have great news!” Ethan was so excited he didn’t notice Edgar’s indifference. “My furniture has become so popular; I’ve decided to open up a store!” Edgar took a drag of his clove cigarette and mumbled something. Ethan failed to hear the mumblings and continued with his joy.

“Isn’t this great? Aren’t you excited for me?” Edgar was quickly becoming annoyed and said so.

“Who cares about some dumb furniture or your capitalist endeavors? I am creating art that will last a lifetime!” Ethan was crushed. He thought for sure his older brother and his best friend would be proud of him. The pain of Edgar’s indifference took hold, and Ethan mumbled,

“I’m sorry, brother. Best be going now,” Ethan took his leave. Edgar, jealous of his younger brother’s happiness and success, flung his ashtray against the wall.

As the days flew off the calendar, Ethan’s wealth grew. Soon he had multiple stores, all selling good furniture at affordable prices. For the first time in his life, the spotlight didn’t shine on Edgar; it shined on Ethan. Their friends and family didn’t care about Edgar and his depressing work. All they wanted to talk about was the end table Ethan was selling or the spice rack that was a fine piece of craftsmanship. Jealousy consumed Edgar. He would not be upstaged by his younger brother. There was only one thing he could do.

Voodoo magic.

On a full moon, Edgar broke into Ethan’s original store. He had with him some wild grass, a dead cat and a raven he named Hercules that he kept in a cage. He pricked his right index finger with a knife and drew a circle with the blood. Next, he placed the dead cat in the middle. Lastly, he opened the cage door and took out Hercules. Now Hercules was not a trained raven, and instead of flying majestically into the circle, he flew to the rafters. As he took flight, he also knocked over a kerosene lamp, burning poor Ethan Allen’s store to the ground. Edgar attributed the destruction to his voodoo magic and gleefully managed to sneak out the back door without being seen, although he did suffer from a horrible cough.

A week later, Edgar bumped into his despondent brother in the cereal aisle at Whole Foods. He was reaching for a box of Apple Jacks when Ethan walked past with his cart.

“Edgar?” He looked over and saw his younger brother, and immediately a wave of guilt and depression washed over him. Ethan, believing the tears in his brother’s eyes were for his loss, threw his arms around his brother. “I knew you cared!” Edgar felt even worse.

“The good news is I had something new called fire insurance, and since the fire was caused by the devil, they gave me a check for a million dollars!” Edgar stared at his brother, dumb-founded.

“Why do they think the devil started the fire?”

“They found a circle made of blood and some dead animals!” Edgar went back to being pissed.

“I can’t take it anymore! You and your dumb furniture and stupid luck. I should be the successful one, not my little brother!” Ethan stood there, confused while an old woman reached around him for some Frosted Flakes.

“What are you saying, Edgar?”

“It was me, Ethan! I burned your precious furniture store down!” Ethan stared at him and with a combination of hurt and anger asked,

“Did you really?” At that moment, the cold hand of Reality slapped Edgar in the face. What the hell was he doing? Did he want to hurt his younger brother? His best friend? More importantly, did he really want to go to jail?

“Uhh, no! Of course not! I’m not serious. I’m joking. Actually, I’m writing a story, and I wanted to see what you thought. It’s about a guy consumed with guilt.” Ethan laughed and poked back at him.

“What a dumb idea for a story. You should write about something interesting like mahogany bookcases or a leather sofa.” The veins on Edgar’s neck stood out like roots pushing up the sidewalk.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough. We shall see each other… Nevermore.” Edgar stormed out of Whole Foods, leaving his cart behind while Ethan Allen continues to make great furniture.