Brody was alone that month, in May. He'd gotten sick of eating Wumpetburgers, and visiting at Brin's house. She'd let her children run around and shout, throwing food and making a mess all day long. It was a purgatory of its own, just to be there; filled echoing with the screams of the sleepy, the cries of those condemned to time-out, and the wails of they who hath spilled thy milk. The eldest daughter was becoming quite rotund, and seemed to feel betrayed by any pair of eyes which bore witness to it. Brody felt terrible for her, and noticed that he wasn't far behind. Once he'd learned to keep them down, the burgers had given him an extra ten pounds of weight as his punishing reward. Kelsey had told him that he smelled of stale ketchup and old pickles, and she was right. Brin's eldest son, on the other hand, was allergic to certain foods, and had been given a more selective menu. He, more alert, had also sniffed out that something was off in the home – he was no longer getting his mother's undivided attention, nor her 'special naptime hugs'. That, and Brody never came to visit before. Brody began to settle into this role, as big cousin, like an uncle – and would sit with them while they watched Goodview fairy-tales on Flicknet. Just as calm had been found, the mere observation of its occurrence had broken it – and the four grade-schoolers were off again. Brody found himself at odds – he was only doing as he was told, abiding what he knew as family. Yet, despite the comfort and couch cuddles all around him, he despised them. Could not stand them. That, and they kind of just... creeped him out. The way she groomed them for beauty and charm, but not discretion, nor honesty, was a disturbing routine to watch. The way she let them run around unclothed, and how they poked and prodded at one another; how they lacked the self-awareness that would have defined an awareness of their actions; Brody could take it no more. His place was elsewhere, and this would have to end – else Brody would be forced to replace the three fathers among the four of them, Brin's little flock. Worse, he would have to lie on her behalf, for the rest of his life – until one day, he'd be lying for himself. And this put such a fire in his guts, that he knew it was time to leave. He may be a prude, perhaps evangelical, but this shit was weird.

The children went to daycare, and Brin blew Brody in the car before dropping him off back home. When they arrived, he had to eat her out until she came. Again, it was all about hunger. She left just as Beelza arrived, who was growing suspicious of the two of them. It had long since been decided between the two that they hated Brody, and now Brin was breaking it. Moreover, Beelza suspected that Brin had gotten something she herself wanted, but would never possess – because unlike Brin, she was ugly in body and in spirit. And Brin, though ugly in spirit, was at least beautiful in body. Beelza knew this well, for no amount of make-up could hide what Brody could see plainly, rotting within. So she tried to wring his neck for attention, the only way she could: by preying on his financial disadvantage.
"You still owe me six thousand dollars," she said with a cheery, subdued rage.
"Based on WHAT?" Brody asked, frustrated with her botherance.
"I pay rent, you don't. Split three ways, I'm covering your share. It's $2000 a month, I pay $800."
"That's not..." Brody pulled out his phone from his pocket, and used the calculator. "That's not my share, that's just a hundred or so dollars more than what you'd already owe. Split three ways, it's $666.66."
"So?" she snorted.
Brody's eyes flicked open, already done with the conversation. "So if anything, for... how long has it been?"
"Two years."
"I'd owe you..." he tapped his phone some more. "Three-thousand, five-hundred dollars. But I do chores, and you don't-"
"Yeah, to pay off MY mom, who YOU mooch off of! But you owe ME three-thousand, two-hundred," Beelza commanded. "That's what mom and I agreed on."
"I wasn't part of this agreement," Brody complained. "I didn't agree to shit, and I don't owe you anything. It's not my fault she's overcharging you, because I was only supposed to be here temporarily. Until I got my own place, next year."
"Well, how about this?!" she shouted. "Pay up now, or move out! Those are your options. I already talked to my mom about it."
"I can't just-" Brody froze, unable to speak another word. Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate in his hand. It was his father, Krinjec Stolza (pronounced krin-yeck). "I have to take this," he told Beelza, turning away from the conversation.
"FINE!" she said. "Just don't think you're getting out of this."

Brody went into his room, and took the call. He was sweating when he swiped to accept, and could barely speak. "H-hello?"
"Son! Brody! How the hell are you?" Krinjec exclaimed.
Brody's voice began to whine. "I'm uh... actually not good. To be honest. I think I'm getting kicked out."
There was silence.
Krinjec spoke. "Really? That's too bad. Tell you what, I'm in Wisconsin – I think, the same city. Crackstove, right?"
Brody's eyes lit up. "Y-yes! Crackstove. You're here?!"
Brody had not seen his father since he was eight years old. The man had left, after Brody's mother, Brindala, had been put into a mental health clinic for making allegations against the Wumpet side of the family. Specifically Klandog Wumpet, son of Aurson himself, whom she had evidence had been running a klan pedophile ring. Though the evidence was ignored by the court under the premise that it was 'potentially forged', Klandog was still found guilty of several lynchings of unarmed black men, and to bribing police officials, but he was acquitted by a judge whom Aurson had personally appointed in his previous term. His defense was that they'd all challenged him to a drunken bet, and lost. Nobody doubted that the judge was corrupt, that he'd been paid enough to suddenly afford a yacht; but Brinda was still harassed, and accused of slander. Aurson had called the entire thing 'fake news', and got Klandog a sponsorship deal with Stobert American Breweries. Within a month of Klandog's guilty verdict, he not only walked free, but starred in a beer commercial, which had won a Hollywood award. Brinda, on the other hand, was followed home, stalked by strange cars, pepper-flashed by reporters and paparazzi, and received several death-threats. Klandog had called her 'a crazy, useless cunt' on his social media, and what finally saw her snap was her own face on a t-shirt, which read: 'Crazycunt'. On the back, '#pedolynchgate'. It was an insult without basis, and yet to everyone else, it was a false reality in which they chose to immerse – to protect themselves. Brinda tried, with the final shreds of her sanity, to prove that it was in fact the conservative voter base who was guilty of Klandog's crimes, and that they were protecting themselves vicariously – but she had poked one too many a hornet's nest. Her car was T-boned in the middle of a country road, where the speed limit was 20mph, and the other driver was going 75mph. It was as much an accident as the lynchings had been. When Brinda woke up, she was in a hospital, with several shattered bones. After she recovered, she was sent to an asylum, never to set foot outside again. For the pain alone, she attempted to hang herself four times, but so far, had not yet succeeded. She remained there to this day, in a padded room – where the truth could sleep in agony and isolation, from discomforting lies.
"Yeah," said Krinjec, "I'm around. If you're in some trouble, I can help you out. I'll explain on the way. Send me your address, kay?"

Brody waited outside at the café downstairs. The barista, a girl Brody's age of long black hair and sexy eye-lined face, handed him his coffee with a look of worry.
"You look rough, Brode. You getting any sleep?"
Brody shrugged. "Only at my girlfriend's place. My aunts keep me up all night – one coughing her lungs out, the other leeching my dick and shoving vegetables up my- uh."
Himiko, which was the name on her tag, stared at Brody with red face and shock. Then she looked dismayed. "Are you being abused, or something? How long has this been going on?"
Brody gritted his teeth. 'I shouldn't have said anything', he thought. He turned away, but then decided to talk about it... just a bit. "Yeah, I am, actually. But I'll get through it. I'll be fine."
"If you say so," she said back. She was obviously concerned.
Brody watched Himiko leave, and go back inside. Just then, an expensive-looking black car pulled up. The driver rolled down his window, and looked around. Brody knew his father's face from the news – specifically, news about the crypcoin stock market. Even Himiko, who'd come back out to deliver another order, recognized him.
"That's Krinjeckle66, the Crypto King!" she gasped.
"Yeah, he's my dad." Brody sighed.
"Dude, he's one of the richest traders on Earth. How are you stuck living with your shitty family and putting ice fraps on your tab?"
Brody grimaced. "You know a lot about him, huh?"
"Yeah, haha," she laughed. "I trade crypcoin, too. He's my idol, I follow him on WeSee."
"He ever mention a son? Or a daughter?"
"Uh... no."
Brody smirked. "That's why. Have a good one, Himiko."
"You too," she replied, astonished. She waved to Krinjec, before going back in.
As Brody got into his car, Krinjec was still scoping her out through the tinted window, best he could.
"She your friend?" he asked.
Brody shrugged. "Kind of. I see her a lot, she works downstairs from where I live. We know each other's names."
"Nice ass," Krinjec nodded.
Brody frowned, and decided not to tell him about Kelsey.

Soon, they arrived at the hotel. It was a fancy one, where Brody had once tried to work. They told him in his video interview that he was 'too homely', and that he might be better for their 'other location', thirty miles west. He was only eight blocks from where he had applied, but in words as nice as they could muster, they thought he was retarded. They took the elevator to his suite, and Krinjec showed him around – it was a nice suite, luxury, with big glass walls and a full kitchen. There were two couches, and an 80" 4K TV.
Krinjec started to say, "So here's where-"
"Why didn't you bail out mom?" Brody cut in.
Krinjec paused. "I'm working on it. You know, her bones are still so sore... I can't even sleep with her, anymore. Not just because they won't let me when I visit, but because she hurts too much. And I miss her, y'know? I miss her a lot."
"I miss her too," said Brody. "But you have the money, don't you?"
Krinjec looked like he was evading something. "I will, soon enough. It's not just about... HAVING the money, Brody. It's about being able to afford using it. But I've got it, soon enough. I'll have it. But you need something too, don't you? You owe your cousin some money."
"Not at mom's expense," Brody retorted.
"No, don't-" Krinjec looked caught. "Don't worry about that. I'm just waiting on some tax stuff, some personal accounts... some finalizing. I just need some things to finalize. I can afford to help you, alright? I promise. It's not at your mom's expense."
Brody nodded slowly. "Good. As long as that's clear."
"But you... you need some money, correct?" Krinjec held out his hands a bit.
"Yeah, I do," said Brody. "I hate to ask, but if I could borrow about five thousand-"
"BORROW?!" Krinjec laughed. "What kind of man do you take me for? I'll give you ten grand, easy. It's nothing."
"Really?" Brody couldn't believe it. "That would be... that's... holy fuck! Are you serious?"
"YES! Yes, I am," Krinjec laughed, with joy. "I just need one thing from you."
Brody smiled back. "What's that?"
Krinjec's smile turned at the corners, and the joy in his eyes ignited, ever so slowly, into a fiery gaze. He said, "Turn around."
"...what?"
Krinjec took off his belt, and let it fall to the floor. "Your mother told me something, on her last visit. Something I didn't already know, about you. And I do so miss your mother."
Brody frowned, and grew nervous. "Are you... serious? That's what you... is that why you came back?! To abuse me?!"
Krinjec laughed again, but with malice. "This isn't abuse, Brody. I'm not holding a gun, and I don't have a knife. Not on me. I just want to love you, like family. That's what you are, isn't it? Aren't we family? This is what families do. They love."
Brody turned red, and froze. Krinjec was handsome, with short-cut brown hair and gleaming green eyes – just like Brody's own. A trimmed beard adorned his face, and his muscles strained his shirt. But up until that moment, he was 'dad'. Now he was someone to measure. A risk to assess. Perhaps if Brody had been raised to expect this, it wouldn't have shocked him so much – if it had been done with care, and with love. Brody was not prosylate, but he was preconscious. And something about this was wrong. But he considered his options. He remembered the Wumpetburgers, and the way his genitals stung in Brincosa's bed. The lack of sleep each night. Brody swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Fine," said Brody. "But only because I should be able to trust my own father."
"Maybe you shouldn't," Krinjec chuckled.
Brody shook his head with disgust, and turned around, just as Krinjec was unzipping his pants.