We Won the Jackpot—If by Jackpot You Mean You’re Willing to Deal with Exile—O’clock
Welcome to the funhouse, Faxness. You’ve arrived in fabulous Las Vegas, otherwise known as the most genetically modified city on the planet. Looks can be deceiving, folks. Unnatural bliss, ladies and gentlemen, unnatural, impossible bliss.
Last night Max and I arrived in Vacationland—and promptly proceeded to stuff as many corn nuts, funnel cakes, spumoni cones, sushi rolls, heroes, falafels, cheese steaks, burritos, and wasabi peas into our mouths as we could find.
So romantic, I know. But it was, though. It was awesome. It was about seventy-five degrees and crisp and dry out. It was perfect, walking down the streets, licking spumoni. The city was lit up like neon heaven.
But it was sad too. I thought that by going somewhere we’d blend in, we’d be able to escape. But the thing about Vegas is that it’s impossible, even for one second, to forget that this city is totally false. There’s even a fake Paris.
It reminds me that being here in Vacationland with Max, just being alone together doing outrageous fun things, that’s false too.
Or short-lived, anyway. How long did it take for Dr. HagenDoodie to find us? Less than twenty-four hours? Exactly.
I can see it in Max’s eyes—we’re going to last about as long in Vacationland as we did in Max School.
Surprise! Life isn’t Las Vegas. Or Disney World. For us bird kids, maybe it’s more like Death Valley.
Fly on,
Fang
ForDylan.doc
Dylan,
I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I hate you. Maybe evil scientists. But they don’t count. The way I feel about you is different. I can’t control it. I don’t care that you’re a testtube mutant and can’t help it. I don’t care if you’re the nicest and smartest dude in the universe and can sing better than Bono. I want Max to be mine. You have no right to touch her. I don’t care how the wack-job whitecoats programmed you. I’ve been by her side practically since the day she was born.
But I can’t be around. My anger toward you is getting in the way. Clouding my decisions. I don’t know what is the right thing to do. And this thing with Max … it’s a thing with you too.
FanQs.doc
Yo,
I have no choice but to respond to this. Why? Because it ‘s funny. Never underestimate the power of funny. It moves mountains.
From Jess:
FANG.
I’ve commented your blog with my questions for THREE YEARS. You answer other people’s STUPID questions but not MINE. YOU REALLY ASKED FOR IT, BUDDY. I’m just gonna comment with this until you answer at least one of my questions.
DO YOU HAVE A JAMAICAN ACCENT?
No, mon.
DO YOU MOLT?
Gross.
WHAT’S YOUR STAR SIGN?
Don’t know. “Angel, what’s my star sign?” She says Scorpio.
HAVE YOU TOLD JEB I LOVE HIM YET?
No.
DOES NOT HAVING A POWER MAKE YOU ANGRY?