Fallout (Crank 3)

but have to act like I am anyway.

THE COMPROMISE?

Woo-hoo. Oh, yeah. Get this.

Mom invited Nikki to roast

her turducken at our house.

Mom’s doing side dishes, pies,

and a prime rib (just in case!).

Best of all, with the probable

exception of Nikki’s dad’s girlfriend,

the entire extended family plans

to come. No wonder I feel married.

Which explains why, fifteen hours

until total insanity, I’m well on

my way to a major buzz, here at

my buddy Jason’s. We’re talking

Jäger, Heineken, and some fat

blunts. It’s one hell of a party.

Nikki’s at work, so I’m basically

on my own, surrounded by stoners

smoking weed. And, in a big bowl

on the coffee table, are assorted meds,

confiscated from who-knows-where.

It’s a regular designer potpourri of sleep

inducers, mood enhancers, pain reducers,

and, for all I know, laxatives. Everyone

is welcome to play the pharm game. Only

one rule applies: You have to take three.

I TRIED TO RESIST

Really I did. For one thing,

I’m supposed to pull a morning