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Fuck You, Dad.

10:30 am

"Hey. Is dad around?"

"Um, no."

"Hm. Do you know where he's at?"

"To be honest with you, Carie, I don't know where he is."

Long pause.

"You still there?"

"Yeah. I'm just trying to figure out who's taking grandma to the store."

"Well, he's either at the Bug-O-Rama, or he went to go pick up paint. He didn't leave me a note or anything."

"Okay. I'm going to take her then before she blows a fuse, or something."

. . .

Hey, dad? Ya REALLY fucked up today.

You know, it's not so much the act of dropping her off and picking her up. It's the assumption I have no life and time to do it. It's the fact he didn't even ask. He took off, shrugging responsibility on me. And, he won't call tonight to thank me, either.

I am not old enough to take care of people. Just ask my cat.

3:29 p.m. - 2003-05-25

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