Help!!!!!!!!

I don't have a little brother...or I didn't until about a month ago. Surprisingly my parents aren't having another baby, they didn't adopt, they aren't foster parents. This little brother adopted me. Actually my cousin his parents are going through a divorce. He bugs me until I want to pull out my own hair. Lets refer to him as V.F. He is a little crazy, there can be no other explanation, every time I go anywhere he stows away some how one way or another. Inside the store he tells everyone he is my little brother and does the most embarrassing things. He told one clerk that I was his mother and he didn't want to be left alone again.....take a deep breath and count to ten.

I wonder what goes through the boys mind. No he isn't five he is fifteen. Yes, I am serious...he is like a human garbage disposal that talks non-stop 24/7. He is really cute...when he is asleep. He is kinda like a puppy he needs lots of loving care, attention and looking after. You must feed, water and make sure he goes to the bathroom frequently. When he needs attention he pelts me with a pillow, bites my arm, pinches me, throws a book at me.....1...2...3....I try to be a controlled person. I am 20 years old...I shouldn't be pillow fighting with a fifteen year old boy. Yet, that is what he wants...he wants attention focused one on one attention. You have to be careful because you never know what is going to come out of his mouth. He would tell a bad joke to a nun, (he has tried).

His latest stunt: 3:00pm today I get this call on my cell phone, "please come pick me up, please these Mexican boys are going to beat me up, they are waiting outside of the library...please" I'm thinking gosh, what did you do to them...but I promise to come get him. I drive all the way to the library about 23 miles. Pick him up taking him to get a slushee so we can talk. V. F. tells me this long story: "I was walking down the hallway and these 4 Mexican kids asked me @!!$%^ ( a colorful expletive) what are you staring at, so I said You fagots... "

My mind is racing....1...2...3...oh my gosh, what is wrong this boy. Didn't his parents teach him that first of all not all Hispanics are Mexicans and secondly that fagot is a bundle of small sticks not a group of angry little boys, furthermore not an appropriate way to respond to people? I was about to preach to him about his wrongs when he twists his face into a huge clown face smile saying in a voice as sweet as honey, "I made this all up to get a ride home so I didn't have to take the bus." 1....34....67....100...My face turns three shades of red, what could I do, tell him the story of the boy who cried wolf? Something tells me that it wouldn't make an impact unless the the boy was a rapping kangaroo and the wolf a gangbanger Lion.

Honestly, if anyone has any suggestions on how to keep your temper and enrich the life of an attention starved fifteen year old boy who needs a friend to talk to...offer them up. I need all the help I can get. I am not a saint and I am too old to learn new tricks...but I'm willing to give it a try.