Customer Service

Hey, it's Vick -- "Uncle" Vick --

Workin late at Complete Wrap Health Insurance Hotline. Just told a guy we can't cover his broken arm. Setting the arm is "too experimental" for our company to cover. That's what we tell everyone. The only people we actually cover are the families of the CEO and his VPs!

Been 3 days since Kwan and Irv took off in Irv's piece-o-crappo Honda. That red Prius belongs to my brother, Lonnie. Yeah, I really do have a brother. An older brother. He just turned 55 and he's still pissed that Irv killed our parents. Hell, he's pissed that Hillary Clinton is the Democratic front runner. Said he'd go get Irv and the bitch who used to be my girlfriend. Go get 'em out in the desert. Lonnie's a PI, so he knows how to stealth follow people.

Lonnie has issues, yeah. He once threw the neighbors pit bull over the fence when it ate its way through into our yard. That's the first time that dog was ever scared.

Go get 'em Lonnie. Irv deserves it. Irv is Lonnie's son, I guess you figured out by now. God, those two never got along. I thought I could help Irv find his way. Stop bein' so depressed.

Lonnie said to stay out of it and jumped in his Prius and took off after Irv and Kwan.

Hey, Kwan! I miss ya! I can find me a new girfriend anytime, y'know. Pick 'em up every day when they call Managed Care. Sick women are the easiest.

Never said I was nice. But, I'm good in bed, huh, Kwannie? :-)

Uncle Vick

Hot Spot in the Desert

It's Kwan again. I'm writing this by firelight. We are out in the desert but I won't say where. There's WiFi here, which is hilarious because there aren't even any electric outlets.

Vick, if you are reading this we won't be here tomorrow.

I'm watching Irv stoke the fire right now with an old skinny treebranch. His shirt is off and he's got a great body. With those pointy long sideburns...I guess I'm lonely. Irv doesn't seem to care much about this blog anymore. He's more concerned with the red Prius that we've seen following us every day.

The wind is blowing that thick black hair of his and I can see flecks of firelight in his eyes. He keeps looking behind him into the darkness. It's actually cold out here tonight. Summer went so fast!

Things change so quickly. I read that social worker's blog. She says Vick says Irv is the killer of Vick's parents. I don't know what to believe anymore.

I didn't have feelings for Vick. I refuse to have any for Irv.

But what do I really know about him except that he started this blog...?

A Report From Social Services

Hello--
My name is Cynthia. I am the social worker for the family of Mr. Victor Rorg. Victor suggested I make an entry in this blog in order to contact his nephew and a woman named Kwan.

Nephew Irv, if you can hear me, your uncle would like you to come home and deal with your issues as a family. Your two aunts have gone home. I must say that the Caucasion aunt looked very much like a man, but that is not pertinent to this case at this time.

I have notified the police regarding your assertion that a previous social worker is buried in the backyard. They came out today and put yellow tape around the alleged burial area. They plan to dig tomorrow.

I am writing from my office in the city. I am afraid to go home after the incident on Labor Day. I have not had a shotgun pointed at me before. Not in all my years of social work. The worst that ever happened to me before last Monday's barbecue was I was once locked in a closet by a woman who said she was possessed by demons. Ironically, the woman was a psychotherapist. She had been verbally abusing her husband and putting printer cartridges in her mouth.

Irv, please return to your Uncle's house. He is uninjured. In fact, after you ran away, he ate two more chicken wienies and a half pound of potato salad out of a pewter mug. He claims you killed his parents and not he.

The police have been notified. It is best if you allow them to question you.

Cynthia

Irv's Honda

It's Kwan.

I've finally left Vick! Irv and I drove 480 miles last night. We're here in the desert now. Irv had some money saved. He's 38 but he looks much younger. He doesn't have hair on his chest like Vick.

Irv said I looked like my father when I showed him the family pictures from Vietnam. I held Irv's hand, the one missing the fingers, last night when I took my turn at the wheel.

I know Vick can access this blog, but he'll never find us. He probably doesn't care about us anyway.

All I've got are the jeans and shirts in my travel bag. I'm a refugee again.

You can see so many stars out here in the desert.

Is it possible to laugh and cry at the same time?

I won't say where we're staying. We thought we were being followed.

I'm so angry and so restless. How can I run for Congress when I've left my Congressional District? How can I do anything now?

Happy Labor DAy!

This is Irv --

Our Family Labor Day Barbecue "party" is still going on.

Uncle Vick is lying face down on the collapsed condiment tray. He's breathing. We can see mustard rising and falling on his shoulders.

Keep typing, Kwan.

I'm holding the twelve-gauge shotgun, pointed at my two "aunts," while the new social worker, Cynthia, runs around in circles on the backyard lawn, freaking out and screaming.

The neighbor's pit bull nextdoor is too frightened to bark.

I punched Uncle Vick in the face fifteen minutes ago. He's still unconscious. Vodka and a fist to the jaw will do that.

Keep typing, Kwan.

Kwan had shown up early to the barbecue to warn me that Vick was going to do to me what was done to his parents last Thanksgiving.

We had three beers each and I told her I'm fed up with being bullied and threatened.

Around 9, Vick had finished his fourth chicken wienie (he hates ostrich), when he stood up and announced to everyone that I had killed his parents last Thanksgiving. That his mother had shot my fingers off in self-defense.

My fingers itched.

I said, "I'm not the one that came flying out of the garage using the 'German baking knife' like we were at Benihana!" I told him, "You deny people their health care for a living. I know for a fact you don't have any sisters. All your mother said last Thanksgiving was that she had gone through your room."

My two "aunts" jumped up.

Cynthia, the new social worker, used some kind of social worker technique and told us all to breathe deeply and think of the ocean.

I pointed to the corner of the yard and told Cynthia that's where Vick had buried the previous social worker.

"And the police believed it was a plane crash..." I added.

That's when Cynthia started flapping her arms and screaming.

Uncle Vick grabbed Kwan.

I punched Vick in the face. He fell flat onto the condiment tray and sent relish into the trees.

Keep typing, Kwan. Look how scared those "aunts" of mine are!

We're taking my car and the twelve gauge and we're leaving here for good. Just you and I. Right now. Before Vick's brother gets here. If he really has a brother.

Happy Labor Day!
Irv

Barbecue Prep

Irv here.

I've been dreading tomorrow's barbecue, as you know, for the past few weeks. With Uncle Vick and Kwan gone, this house has creeped me out. Plus, it's so hot outside, all I can do is crank up the air-conditioner and watch videos on YouTube. Saw a video today called "My Cat Wore a Wig and Went Dancing."

I'm not alone tonight. The new social worker has arrived and she's moved in already. Her name is Cynthia. She looks like Angela Lansbury (before she died). Cynthia's here to help our family cope with the first holiday since the killings. She was supposed to be here last Christmas, but there's a backlog of cases.

Cynthia packed the fridge with beer, potato salad, and ostrich burgers. I hate ostrich burgers, but Cynthia says her family used to breed ostriches.

Cynthia went right to work decorating the patio with American Flags left over from the Fourth of July. Really, what is the proper decoration for Labor Day? When she asked me, I said since most companies had cut out their pension plans and employee health insurance, why not little cardboard gravestones?

Cynthia didn't laugh. She told me I should shave off my sideburns since many employers didn't want "alternative lifestyle fashions" in the workplace.

I told Cynthia she should shave her legs.

We haven't spoken to each other since.

I keep remembering that awful meal last Thanksgiving when Uncle Vick killed his parents and the last social worker.

I hope tomorrow goes better...

Irv

Horrible Women

Kwan here. It's hotter than Hades tonight. That's what my parents on the refugee boat used to say, and it's true now.

I'm back at the Paradise Motel. Vick's out drinking at the gas station with some guy named Morongo.

I met Vick's two "sisters" today. One of them is white and one of them is black. The white one is very tall with very big hands. The black one looked uncomfortable and wore a man's stetson hat.

We went shopping at Ralph's -- for food for Monday's barbecue. Vick stole twenty chicken sausages from the gourmet freezer. His white sister stuffed ten of them in her clutch purse. The black one used her hat.

We actually paid for the potatoes and the vodka. I tried to run away but Vick's white sister held me with one of her giant hands in a grip like a Yeti. "This is an important national holiday," she whispered in my ear. She had to bend down to reach my ear.

Vick bought some new bathing trunks on sale, 38 waist.

We watched beach volleyball all evening, and then the women left and Vick went across the street to drink with Morongo. Morongo manages the motel.

I found a way to open this bathroom window. By the time Vick reads this, I'll be gone.

Kwan