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April 29 - May 2, 2018
You still have human stuck to the grill.” “I should let him shoot you? What kind of sister would I be?” “One I don’t have to visit in an Italian prison.” Chuckling, Max put the car in reverse and Charlie worked hard to ignore the short-lived begging and too-long crunching sounds coming from under the car as she pulled out. Charlie knew her sister was taking her time driving back over the gunman. Max “Kill It Again” MacKilligan was known for being vengeful.
“Squirrels again?” “They started it!”
“Why is she still our responsibility?” “Because she’s our sister and we love her and if we don’t watch out for her, she will get involved with the wrong people, and destroy the world. Is that what you want?”
“All right,” Charlie began, “you know the drill.” Max nodded and flatly replied, “Go in. Kill everybody. Get Stevie out.” Charlie briefly closed her eyes, took a moment to breathe and try to relax her shoulders. When she felt she wouldn’t yell, she said, “That is not the drill.”
“I know you’re working hard to be a sociopath, but stop it.” “Sociopath is in the eye of the—” “—forensic psychologist working for the prosecution?”
“What’s it like to be you, Max? Not to care? Ever?” Max shrugged. “It’s awesome.”
“I’ll get her.” Charlie opened her door. “And when I bring her back, you be nice!” she warned. “I’m always nice!” Max laughed. “Shut up.”
“You brought the rocket launcher?”
She could see her sister was readying herself for another panic attack, and Charlie simply didn’t have the patience for it right now. Especially when Stevie could go from zero to hysterical in six seconds. She was the Ferrari of panic.
However, it wasn’t a dance of skill, but of excitement. Of relief. Of downright giddiness. Neither sister spoke as they boogied around each other because words weren’t necessary. But despite their silence . . . Stevie slapped her hand against the Range Rover and snarled, “I know what you two are doing back there and stop it! He’s still our father!”
“Good Lord! Get off the cross, we need the wood.”
“She’s a serial killer.” “Because she . . . smiles?” “Yes.”
“Is no one else concerned about what the fuck she’s using to make those cookies?”
Stevie abruptly grabbed Berg’s T-shirt and brutally ordered, “You stray-dog this, Berg. You stray-dog this!”
“Because we’re not bears. I’m barely badger. Stevie’s more cat. Max is irritating.”
“I love how your Christianity only comes into play when you don’t have a rational argument for something you don’t like.”
“So, let me sum up—we’ve got one vote for total annihilation and one vote for forcing them to join the hockey team. Am I correct?” “Yes,” both females replied.
“How the fuck do you steal over a hundred million and still have no goddamn money?”
“He’s a two-hundred-pound dog. He doesn’t have to move.”
“If I wanted someone dead, I’d hire Max.” “Awww,” Max said, gently touching Bernice’s forearm. “That’s sweet.”
“Your sister still hate me?” “Yes,” Max and Stevie said together. “Seriously?” “Well, she hated you before,” Stevie explained. “Now her hate is just enhanced.”
“Besides,” she added, slipping out of her dress, “I love Kyle, but if I had to date that boy, I’d put a pillow over his head until he stopped moving. And that would be a great loss for art, don’t you think?” Charlie nodded and told her sister, “I love your sound logic.” “It’s just one of my many gifts.”
“But tigers are man-eaters . . . and you’re half tiger.” Stevie stared out the front window for several seconds ruminating on that bit of information before admitting, “Dear God. I’m terrified of myself.”
“You can’t give wild animals food and then take it away.” Stevie pointed a finger at Charlie and snarled through gritted teeth, “So if that means you need to bake, bitch. Bake!”
