The Lady, or the Bear-fucker?

The other day I went into a Barnes and Noble to buy a latte and was waited on by a girl named M------ K--- I knew in high school. From behind the counter at Barnes and Noble she was polite and kind, and since it was slow we spoke for a few minutes while her co-worker made my drink. I left confused, trying to reconcile this M------ K--- with the one I knew in high school. That M------- I remember as irritating, petty, and cruel, and though I can't remember many details of how or why she was this way, I feel certain that she was.
Less certain is this story I heard about her and her younger brother; I want to believe it but it seems too good to be true.
Growing up M------ had a favorite teddy bear, which she slept with every night. One day in high school it went missing. She looked for it everywhere, and after a few days gave it up for lost. Tears were shed.
Two weeks later she found the bear in her brother's laundry hamper. It had a hole gouged in its crotch and was covered with semen. M------, refusing to lose a treasured part of her childhood to her younger brother's unusual stuffed animal fetish, sewed up the hole, put it in the washing machine, and went back to sleeping with it as though nothing had happened.

Now, gentle reader, I would like your input. What is weirder, defiling a stuffed animal or sleeping with a stuffed animal knowing it has been so defiled? Can we make excuses for the brother, in the throws of early puberty, full of hormones, wondering what it would be like to have sex with an inanimate object? Can we understand M------, sentimental to the point that she can't give up a precious stuffed animal even after it has been encrusted with the ejaculate of a younger sibling? Who is more loathesome: M------ or her brother?
Please leave a comment with your opinion; I really am curious to hear what you think.