My grandmother is not doing entirely well. I wonder if I can ask if she'd consider giving me the house. My grandfather is propped up in his wheelchair in the back of the house while a million miles away we make our revelry.

My wife has been taking advantage of our open-ended arrangement and is fucking some young piece of fluff in clear view of everyone in the living room and it sickens me. The rules are clear but we never made any provisions for sentiment or embarrasing public behavior.

It makes me want to take Alexia to bed but it would ruin part of that safety bubble we provide.

Outside, Asian hoods are casing the place and I yell at them to move on and start checking to make sure that my glock will keep tucked into my pants and loading the extra rounds into the magazine because its very likely that sort of night. Two old guys are peeping about the tractor and are reticent about leaving.

"Is there a problem, officer?" I ask, knowing that this will be their gambit. "Safety inspection", they'll say.

"No, everything looks alright." Accented. Not oldschool at all. They've got no right to boost my ceedee, that's for naturalized immigrants.

"Okay," I reply. "I don't want to see you again tonight because my pockets are full of ammo, my wife is inside fucking some guy I don't approve of and I really don't need more reason than that for a fight. Okay?"

"Okay."