Page 117 of Fallout (Crank 3)

played the game like

it was for real.

Easier to play victim.

SPEAKING OF PLAYING

The last time Donald came

to visit, he fried my brand-new

Xbox. “Uh … So where are

the demon kids going to sleep?”

Apparently Dad hasn’t bothered

much with the minutiae. I don’t

know. Haven’t really thought

about it. The guest room?

I snort. “Mom’s white on white

with white trim guest room?

You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

He thinks it over for a second,

has to laugh, too. We could

give them permanent markers

to decorate the walls, I suppose.

Or there’s always …

I was afraid of that. Hmm.

Well, if I take everything of value

with me, “Maybe I could stay

with Nik.” Then I remember.

Take your shit, get out,

and don’t come back.

Ah, no worries. Surely

she’s cooled off by now.

I STASH ANY RESIDUAL WORRY

In a dark closet inside my brain

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