Fallout (Crank 3)

I don’t give a damn what you want.

You are not welcome in this house.

I told you that when you went away,

and I haven’t changed my mind.

“Went away,” meaning he was locked up

by the State of Nevada. Again. That was

eight years ago. I remember he called to

share the news while we were planning

my ninth birthday party. I had no

idea what “five to fifteen” meant.

But it sure seemed to take all the fun

out of talking about balloons and cake.

Apparently it’s working out to “more

than five, less than fifteen.” At least,

that’s what I’m hearing from the kitchen.

You may have paid your debt to society,

but you haven’t paid your debt to me.

Not to mention to your daughter. She

doesn’t even know who you are, and

neither do I. Car thief? Drug addict?

You just stay the hell away from here.

I don’t need that kind of worry.

This call is costing an arm and a leg.

I’m going to hang up now.

AND HE DOES

The phone slams against the table,

loud enough for me to hear it

from here. I scoot away from

the door, down the hall, just as

Grandfather exits the kitchen.