will be perfect. You and Cynthia could have everything you’ve ever wanted. Barks can take time off, work on that stupid book. Whatever.” He reached into one of his pockets, pulling out Barks’s squeaky bee. The Captain howled in the background and his paws clattered against the glass window. Dad squirted some lighter fluid onto the rubbery face of the squeaky bee, and then he lofted it onto the pile, the cherry atop a humungous, literary cake. “But until then, Chris—” “Don’t do this.” I stepped forward, mesmerized. “Please.” Dad lit an entire matchbook and tossed it onto the pile. The flames brewed up and spat in all directions. Pages of literature curled to neon embers, spines of books were ablaze with orange light, and the squeaky bee melted last, its squeaker popping with a noisy, final screech. Barks let out a long, loathsome howl. “Barks will write those articles.” Dad gazed back towards the house. “He’s just got to learn who is boss.” I found Barks later on in his writing room, moping on a grey beanbag chair. When I came inside, he didn’t even look up. Instead he covered his face with his paws. Without all his books and toys his room was completely empty, except for the laptop and his ceramic desk. They stood prominently in the center. “Barks, are you okay?” I said. He didn’t make a sound. I could see the screen of his laptop flickering, glowing with words. It was his novel. I took a step towards it. He didn’t move. “Y’mind if I look at this?” He let out a quiet sigh. I read the words aloud off the screen: Dempsey had lost the woman, the love of his life, and now he was hollow shell of a man. His enemies surrounded him, stealing his air and crushing him under their weight. He knew that they needed what he had, the magic in his bones and mind. They wouldn’t stop coming at him day and night with complaints, counter-grievances, offers, messages in bottles, jars, bowls, tubes. He knew what he needed to do. Dempsey took the streets, leaving them all behind. Just a glimmer in the night-heat. Another star added to the moonlight.
I stood there, staring at the screen, and wondered what my mother would say. She’d probably march back to Dad and tell him what’s what. She’d set him straight and then she’d order a family Parcheezi game or a full family outing to the movies. “Barks,” I said. He didn’t look up. “Barks.” He snorted. “Barks!” I clapped my hands and he looked over at me with a lazy, forlorn eye. “You need to trust me like you’ve never trusted me before. I’m getting you out of here. I know you’ve got to have your novel backed up on disk somewhere. You’re going to need to get that. You’re leaving tonight. But first, I need
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