Got Milk?

Dev always went to the store with Dad, but wouldn’t let Dad stand in line beside him. It was bad enough listening to the totally uncool stream of racist bullshit that Dad was always spouting. Dev tried to stare at the elaborate linoleum floor pattern at the A&P and pretend he had a free-thinking, open-minded parent who fit in with the times. What had Mom ever seen in this oily gas bag?




















But after Mom died, everything changed. Dad started using rogaine, wearing wifebeaters, and then there was the Hitler moustache. You’d think he would have been more embarrassing than ever, but by this time not only had Dev gotten used to it, he’d halfway started believing Dad’s spewings, and even sharing his wifebeaters. Dev…you oughta be ashamed of yourself. Hope you become as intolerant of lactose as you are of everything else. And lose the mullet!

Busted

Buster didn’t like going to school, and often played sick in order to stay home, watch some TV and masturbate. He hated getting surprised by the camera, but his mother was relentless.





















By the time Buster grew up and actually got sick, his mother considered him a hypocrite and had no more patience for him. She makes him do his own cooking, and even refuses to empty his bedpan. Worst of all, she still loves taking pictures of him caught in the act and saying, "Whatcha doin', Buster?" He can't wait for her to die so he can bust one out in peace.

Gotta Song In My Heart

From the time Beau was just a little kid, he had this incredible ability to rock out. And the crowd reaction, even from immediate family members, was insane—there’s Grandma doing her closed-eye drunken dance, Dad checking to see if he shit his pants, and Mom laughing wildly. Meanwhile, Beau’s oblivious to everything but the sweet sound of his voice and his wicked guitar licks.














Today Beau’s really got that rocker mouth thing down pat, and of course he’s dressed in nothing but black leather since third grade. He spends at least two hours a day working out and posing in his walk-in closet. He still transports himself, and only himself, to another realm when he gets his music on, but he’s always on the lookout for fans. Where are the damn fans? That's what he doesn't understand. And it’s costing an arm and a leg to rent this auditorium on off nights and pretend there’s a crowd there, much less other band members. He can’t even afford the mike if he’s going to use the lights. Beau might have to give up the dream soon, and then something bad's going to happen.