Fallout (Crank 3)

Dad materializes beside me,

takes the phone, calmly says,

Kristina isn’t here, Ron.

If you can’t find her, that’s

too bad, but it’s really not

our concern. What does concern

me is your ruining our holiday.

I’m going to hang up now.

Don’t call back. Today or ever.

Dad follows through, hangs

up, and that might be that except

around here, nothing ever is.

A LOUD GASP

On the stairs makes Dad

and me wheel in unison. Donald.

Was that my dad? he shouts.

Why didn’t you let me talk to him?

My dad remains calm. Your father

didn’t ask to talk to you, Donald.

So? I wanted to talk to him.

You can’t keep me away from him.

Dad’s voice rises, ever so slightly.

No one’s trying to keep you away—

Yes, you are. I hate you. I hate

it here. I want to go home….

The poor kid totally breaks

down. Please. Let me go home.

Dad drops his voice a notch.

Look, son, you can’t go back there.

Liftoff again. Shut up. Shut up.