Fallout (Crank 3)

“What do you mean, why? You’re my

dad, right?” Sounds lame, even to me.

So?

His one-word responses are pissing

me off. “Shouldn’t I love my father?”

Not necessarily.

Two words. Communication.

I realize, however, that he’s right.

Loving your parents is not required.

He inhales the last drag of his cigarette.

Get me a beer?

WHEN I RETURN

He is ready to talk, as if words

suddenly materialized in his brain.

First, a long drink of brew.

Then his mouth opens.

I’m sorry I’m such a shit-

for-brains. I thought I’d

be a better dad. Wanted

to be. Really, I did. But

then I let my bad habits

get the better of me.

I watch him pull another long

swallow. Light another cancer

stick. “It’s called addiction, Dad.”

I know. Can’t stop. And

to tell you the truth, even

if I could, I don’t want to.

You’re the only good thing

in my fucked-up life. And I