The Motel Life Page #3

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but they make you crazier than hell.

I ain't never going back

to that place again.

Don't get thrown in a mental hospital

Frank. It's worse than you think.

It's alright, kid.

- Are you alright?

- What?

I said are you alright?

- Hey Barry!

- Yeah, Dad?

- We're gonna go grab a bite to eat.

- Okay.

- Okay, just get me something.

- What do you want?

I don't know, where're

you guys going?

We're gonna eat the ass-end

out of a dead skunk.

Get mine with ketchup!

The boy's sick.

I'm sure sorry to hear

about your brother's leg.

What, six months after

losing your mom?

And you're only what... sixteen?

I just turned fifteen.

I hired you when you were fourteen?

Yeah.

Jesus.

Well, there you go.

What were you thinking out there?

I mean, when you were

just standing there.

I don't know.

Guess I was just... scared.

I'd be scared too.

Look, son...

What you gotta do is think

about the life you want.

Think about it in your head.

Make it a place you wanna be.

A ranch, a beach house, penthouse,

doesn't matter what it is, but a

place you can go hide out in.

Then when everybody's on your ass,

or you can't stop thinking about

your mom, you can go there.

- Could it help my brother?

- I don't know.

Tell him yours.

I used to tell Barry stories all

the time when his life was rough.

They seemed to help him out.

Gave him a place to escape to.

Gave him some hope. Hope's the key.

Hey, boy.

What an a**hole.

Come on. Come on.

This is Mission Control at Houston,

at three hours, two minutes

into the flight of Discovery.

It's hard to tell if

they're awake or not.

You look better.

I feel better.

- Did they say anything about your leg?

- They ain't sure.

Depends if they can stop some

sort of infection I got.

At least I shot myself in the

leg that was already bad.

Yeah.

You're drunk, huh?

Yeah.

You should drink more milk, Frank.

Hey.

You find anything

out about the kid?

Not much. His name was Wes Denny.

He lived in a house, some

sorta foster place I think.

I talked to a guy who

knew him. Said...

his parents died in a car crash,

and he'd been shuffled between

homes his whole life, you know.

I mean, nobody really

gave a sh*t about him.

For real?

Yeah.

- You ain't making it up?

- No.

He was like us, you know.

He didn't have anybody left.

- I might have got us a dog.

- What?

- No sh*t.

- Oh yeah.

- Where... where'd you get it?

- Stole it from some guy's yard.

I mean, he was gonna have frozen

to death if I hadn't, but...

We always wanted a dog.

Damn, that's something, huh?

- Frank, that's really something.

- Yeah.

Frank?

Can we go somewhere else, Frank?

What happened?

- It's nothing.

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