"I can't believe this shit!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "What the hell kind of an idea was that? Getting hammered and picking a fight with the mayor?"

Dad began to sink in the back of the car, noticiably ashamed. I took a deep breath and continued:

"You are responsible for people now, man. If you screw it up, I can't just pick up from where you left off. Those guys back at the camp will be at each other's throats!"

"Laura, maybe you should go a little easier on him," said Jonathan. "We still don't know exactly what happened..."

"Of course we do. He had a poorly thought-out scheme, and when things went sideways, he got drunk and stupid..."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," dad agreed.

"Are we still going to get food?" Samantha asked.

"Hell yeah, we're going..." I said. "No way that little discussion back there is going to ruin my lunch."

We parked in front of the italian Deli and got sandwiches while dad slept it off in the car. I kept walking back and forth, knowing that the consequences of his drinking relapse would eventually fall down on everyone. Last time he tried to put down the bottle, we had to tie him up to his bed for two days just to keep him from shooting somebody.

Back at the camp, things can get really ugly if the main authority figure shows any kind of weakness. They already had enough of that from regular society. All that it takes for them to start a whole uprising is a single bloody tissue.

"Relax, Laura, he is a full-grown man," said Jonathan while taking a bite of his rosbife special. "If you think about it, some of the greats use to hit the booze and they did reasonably well. You know, Churchill, van Gogh, Poe."

"Well, sure, cause Roger Dias  is on the same level as those guys... Tell you what, Jonathan, the day he beats Hitler, I'll buy him a drink myself."

"That's not a very realistic goal now, is it?", he asked.

"It sure isn't," said Samantha, sitting with her legs crossed on the hood of the car.

"Dude, you're not part of this conversation, okay?” I said. “Just eat your damn cone!"

"Hey, I get it your under a lot of stress right now, and neither one of us actually lives in your camp," Jonathan got up and threw the wrapper on the garbage. "But that's not good enough a reason to be an asshole, you know? That's the first step to losing everything that matters."

"You're right. I'm sorry, Samantha."

"Now try to ignore some of those problems for a second, ok?" He said. "You can't have a stroke at seventeen."

"I wouldn't want that to happen... But I also can't let children be eaten by goddamn' jaguars just cause my father is too attached to his José. Things definetively need to change around here."

"Maybe there is something I can do to help," said Jonathan.

"Run me over so I don't have to deal with it?" I asked with a crooked smile.

"No... But I think I should introduce you to my grandmother."