I know shit would go bad as soon as my sister and brother-in-law said that they wanted to walk back to the hotel. That meant I was alone with My Fucking Father, and after all the bonhomie of figuring out that "Meijer" is actually pronounced "Meyer," he then blindsided me by telling me, "You need to do something with your life."
Fuck you, Father. I'm just going to die anyway. Why fucking bother?
I felt the same way when my sister and brother-in-law decided to take my parents' minivan back home, leaving me to take the rental car back home with My Fucking Father. It's like I'm an altar boy getting stuck alone with a priest who then molests him, except that I'm not getting molested.
And there's gonna be seven more days of this shit? Some of those days where I'm stuck in the same fucking room with my parents, alone??
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