Nevin

I blew up a bank today.

Well, I didn't really blow it up. I caught it on fire. And it wasn't really a bank. It was a hay bale.

It was magical. Ever since I saw The Dukes of Hazzard, I had wanted to try out Luke's flaming arrow. So I saturated the bale of hay in gasoline and took a shot at it. The flames were huge.

I figured the bank and the hay bale are alike in that they are both liars. One is a bunch of straw pretending to be a cube, and the other told me I had $228 dollars in my account when I only had $28, which made my insurance payment bounce so now when I drive my car I'm breaking the law.

My family didn't like it very much. Dad's girlfriend, Marilyn, heard the boom and, thinking I had blown myself up, bolted out the back door. I was only lying on the ground to freak her out though.

Dad didn't show concern for my safety like Marilyn did. Instead, he gave me a half-hour lecture on playing with fire. This had become a frequent activity of mine. The last incident ended with the clothes on the line catching fire, and I received two weeks' house arrest for it. Nothing was harmed this time though, so I was not punished. Dad did, however, forbid me from firing up the other two hay bales I had bought.

It's my turn to clean the bathroom. That's what I'm doing now, thinking about the panicked expression on Marilyn's face, and pulling hair out of the bathtub drain with a cotton swab. I refuse to touch it because I'm guessing there is head hair, hairs that have been shaved off legs and armpits, and more than a few pubes. I live with five other people-my dad, his girlfriend, her two daughters, and my sister. We girls shed a lot of hair when we bathe. It's disgusting.

I can hear dad and Marilyn fucking each other in the next room. It makes me want to find another bale of hay, though setting their bed on fire would be more fun.

Fire is an outlet for my frustrations, and by frustrations I mean Marilyn. She had only been dating my dad for five months when he asked her and her daughters to move in. Our house only has three bedrooms, so this resulted in my being moved out of my room to be imprisoned in a space roughly the size of a nice wal-in closet. At least I have my own room, the other three share one.

I had expected Marilyn to be of some help to me. With both her and her girls coming, I thought that would lessen my responsibilities. This proved not to be true. She has a job working three days a week at a chiropractor's office. At the end of each day she comes home, eats her dinner, watches her favorite television programs, and joins my dad in bed. This leaves any laundry or dishes for me to clean when I come home from my job, because the other three girls are just as lazy as Marilyn.

"What are you doing, shoogerbooger? I need to pee." says Dad, stepping into the doorway. He jams a fist into one of his eyeballs and begins to twist, like he wants me to believe he's just woken up from a nap.

"De-hairing the tub. What are you doing?" I ask. He drops his fist and glances around with quick, sharp jerks of his head. My dad always has to make it obvious when he's being sneaky. He takes another quick glance at me, and joins me in the bathroom, closing the door behins him. I almost gag when a burst of cigarette breath wraps itself around my face as he leans in to whisper.

"What do you think about me asking Marilyn if she wants to get married?" He leans back with his eyebrows raised , clearly preparing himself for a "hello no" speech. My body tenses and he shifts his weight and crosses his arms.

"What do you mean, what do I think?" I ask.

"I mean, how do you feel about it?" he says.

Does it matter? You're going to do whatever you want to anyway. I didn't even want her to move in.

"You can do whatever you want to." I say. He unfolds his arms.

"Is that it? Doesn't the though make you happy at all?" He holds his hands out to me, and his eyes are wide and questioning.

"I guess so." He drops his hands and lowers his head, nodding. I suddenly feel ashamed for having thought he didn't care about what I think, even though it was probably true and his defeated stance was all just for show.

"Dad, I just want you to be happy. Of course I don't mind." I smile at him.

"You're sure?" he asks, and scratches his chin. I nod. He hugs me.

"Thank you, shoogerbooger." He leaves the bathroom, and I am left blinking at the doorway with a hairy cotton swab drooping in my hand.