Chapter 3: The Vacation
They desperately needed to stop.
“Daddy, Daddy!” screamed Tony in a voice of desperate pleading.
They were on the Interstate, about twenty miles from the nearest gas station, and they had just left Burger Junction and Auto Palace. Tony needed to stop.
“Tony,” Mrs. Jones said calmly, turning around in her seat to hit the teen with a flyswatter her husband had given her as a Mother’s Day gift. “You have got to understand that we are trying our best to make it to the gas station as soon as you can, but Iowa is a big, spread out place. If you need to stop that bad, we’ll pull over here.”
The other children screamed with laughter, tormenting their brother with sadistic cruelty, the same kind they learned from their mom.
Tony became enraged, taken by anger. He began lashing out, kicking the dog and shouting obscenities. The dog bit him back. Fido is a pit bull.
Grandma’s house was just down this oak lined street.
“Des Moines is such a pretty town,” Mrs. Jones said. “But I hate your lousy mother.”
Mr. Jones didn’t hear her, as he was chomping on a Mars Bar, noticing that there wasn’t really an almond in every bite. He slammed on the brakes, rolled down the window, threw the candy out onto the street and pulled out a Heath Bar in retaliation.
“Litterbug,” said Toniya.
“Nazi Swine,” Mr. Jones replied laughing.
“Look there’s Grandma!” Little Boy Joey bellowed. “It’s a Miracle.”
Grandma was there alright, all 350 pounds or her. Mrs. Jones grimaced in disbelief.
“That fat hippo,” she said, giving the old woman the proverbial finger.
She put down her Mighty Mouseketeer Comic Book, and opened the door, proceeding to roller skate up the driveway’s slight incline.
“Your mom can really skate,” Mr. Jones pointed out to the three children.