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