Since he’d confirmed my suspicions about her mother’s participation in Crixson, I couldn’t wrap my head around the odds of it. Fate must’ve hit the crack pipe again, the way it kept reminding me how much of an absolute prick my father had been in life.
"The crack pipe"? What? This is an odd and edgy description I wouldn't expect an academic to have. A classist, yes, but not someone in his position.
