Fallout (Crank 3)

of the girls. Guess that’s my cue

to go be one of the guys.

I grab a beer from the fridge.

“Well, call if you need anything,” I lie.

When I turn, I notice David outside

the window playing with …

A NEW PUPPY

“Hey. No one told me you got

a new pup.” It’s been a few

months since Moxie died, at the ripe

old age of fourteen. Downright

elderly for a German shepherd.

Too quiet around here without

a dog, Mom says. Besides, we

thought it might be good for

the boys to have something

to love and take care of.

Or to dislike and mutilate.

Cynically speaking, of course.

David actually seems

to be enjoying the pup’s

company. I was just a little

younger when Moxie came

to us, all wiggly and yappy.

She grew into a straight-up

incredible dog, and I took

a fair amount of credit for that.

This puppy—Sasha, I’m told—

may be just the thing to bring

David and Donald out of