a whole helluva lot better.
At least until I go inside,
only to overhear Dad on
the phone. You can’t be
serious, Marie. We’ve
discussed this a dozen
times. … Stop yelling at
me, please. Of course I
understand. I’m not stupid….
See? The minute I walk in
the door, they’re arguing.
There goes my nice little
buzz. I sneak past Dad’s
office into the kitchen. Sex
and stress—not to mention
weed—make a guy hungry.
And thirsty. I consider
snagging a beer, but Dad’s
already in a snit. Better stick
with a sandwich and root beer.
GOOD PLAN
Dad comes into the kitchen
while I’m still slopping
mayonnaise on the bread.
Hunter! Didn’t hear you
come in. He reaches into
the fridge for one of the three
remaining Miller Lights.
“You were on the phone.
So what’s up in Vegas?”